


Nature and Nurture

by Phantom_Ice



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (s), ? - Freeform, Alpha America (Hetalia), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Basically takes place in the usual omega verse society but gone wrong, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Misogyny, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Meta, Omega England (Hetalia), Omega Verse, Self destructive behaviors, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Street Harassment, Unreliable Narrator, but here's some evidence:, but hopefully a bit different?, if things start to head that way they are either terminated or treated as rape, it's not all super dark and heavy or anything tho, just wanted to see it go wrong, lol. Makes it sound like I don't like usual omega verse. i do., lol. i know everyone says that, no sanctioned dub con, so ya another omega!Arthur hates everything and alpha!Alfred loves everything fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-05-07 15:57:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14674473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom_Ice/pseuds/Phantom_Ice
Summary: There's a difference between being functional in society and being complacent in it.This is a happy medium that both Alfred and Arthur are going to have to renavigate in very different ways if they're going to make anything work between them.Luckily, sometimes love can teach us things that have nothing to do with romance.





	1. Arthur I

**Author's Note:**

> So i love Omega verse, but i don't love to see all the gross hyper-masculine behavior or the whole heat-sex-dubcon-thing romantacized, so i thought what would this society really end up like if we assume woman's/omega civil rights were mostly delayed because of the whole heat and scent and hyper-sex-drive thing? What would it really be like to be an omega in a world like this? What would be the pressures to be an alpha? And here we are.

Arthur turned around in front of the mirror again, checking one last time that no part of his clothing clung to any bit of his body and that his sweater-vest looked as lumpy as it possibly could. Upon deciding that everything was to his satisfaction, he stopped for a moment more to observe his makeup-free face in the mirror, touching his hand to one abnormally thick eyebrow. People were always telling him he should get them plucked or waxed or threaded, but he was glad for this Kirkland family curse. Anything that made him look any bit more unattractive was a positive thing in his book. Satisfied with his lack of appeal, Arthur looped his pleather satchel over his shoulder and turned to exit his room.

He made his way down the stairs as gracelessly as he could, scuffing the wood with the toe of his shoe and hitting each step with a flat foot instead of quietly on his toes. In the kitchen he filled and plugged in the electric kettle while shifting through the teas in the drawer next to the stove, plucking out a packet of English Breakfast.

As he waited for the kettle to boil, he reheated a scone, home cooked by his father two days before. It finished before the tea and he spread a bit of strawberry jam over it just as the sound of popping bubbles reached his ears. The boiling water was poured into his favourite tea cup- a white and rose imitation of one of the cups from Queen Victoria's best set- and he put in the bag, added a drop of honey and slid it in front of his stool with his scone, where he sat to enjoy his breakfast.

The rest of the house began to wake up around him as he ate. He could hear his brother- the only one of three that was currently living at home- start his shower upstairs. Somewhere down the hall, the door to his parent's bedroom squeaked open just as he took his second bite of scone. His father soon sleepily stumbled into the kitchen, looking down as he fiddled with the ends of his tie.

"There's some water heated up. In the kettle,"

"Hmm?" His father's head popped up, "oh, Arthur, how are you this morning?" Arthur just took another bite of his scone. "Well, if it's already is heated up..." his father continued as if Arthur had answered, picking out a tea with one hand and running the other through his thinning, but still curly, red hair. Next into the kitchen was his mother, her tie knotted perfectly and just finishing pulling her long blonde hair up with a tasteful bow. She grabbed her own teacup from the cabinet and then straightened her sky blue trousers where they had ridden up. Arthur's slight frame had almost certainly come from his father, who was on the lankier side, rather than his mother who had thick hips and legs and slightly rounded cheeks that left her constantly battling between a healthy weight and slightly over.

"Good morning, poppet, how are you?"

Arthur savored his last sip of tea and quietly used his napkin to dab away any leftover jam from around his mouth. He tried to finish his food every morning before his brother walked in and clogged the air with the overwhelming scent of alpha. The stench never failed to make Arthur lose any semblance of an appetite.

"I'm doing well, mum." He slipped off his stool and rinsed his plate and cup off in the sink.

Rose Kirkland's green eyes followed her son and Arthur pretended not to notice her somewhat harsh features (it was her dark eyebrows, which while not as wide as Arthur's stood out prominently against her much lighter hair) soften as her sight roamed over his attire. He started to walk out of the kitchen and towards the front door. Traditionally his alpha, that is to say in his case his only living-at-home brother, should be escorting him to school. However, his parents were two betas and didn't really understand this social convention and so didn't press on it being followed. Arthur was sometimes unsure whether he was grateful for this or not; even if he had wanted an escort he would never stoop so low as to ask. Yet sometimes the walk was just too much. At other times he was proud of his ability to navigate the streets, so dangerous for his nature, on his own.

"Have a good day at school, son," George Kirkland shot out as he sat to his own tea and scone.

"Arthur!" His mother called as she strolled over to him. He turned around and she took both of his cheeks in her soft hands and lightly kissed his forehead, "be strong," she whispered almost harshly, like an order. Yet, for the first time since he had woken up, Arthur's lips twisted into something that might have been a smile.

As an intelligent beta with a steady job that no one berated her for having, Rose Kirkland couldn't completely empathize with Arthur's situation, but she could know it and she could hate how it hurt her son, and she could encourage him to have the strength that society told him was his vice.

"I will, mum," he whispered back. She smiled and turned back to the kitchen as Arthur moved to stand behind the front door. Taking a deep breath he lifted his chin, squared his shoulders and opened the door to the outside world.

His first steps out of his house were normal: a simple walking gait, casual, as he walked by the other houses in his neighbourhood. Things only began to change once he had left the sparsely populated area surrounding his home to head towards the bus station and into the city. A random splattering of people became groups of people which became a crowd.

Random pedestrians where disquieting, but not overly alarming, crowds were annoying, but not particularly troublesome. It was that intermediary zone that Arthur found the worst: where the sparse person had found friends and the crowd was still thinned out. That was where people both had the awareness to notice others and the knowledge that they blended into a larger group. As he walked into this zone, his footsteps became heavier, more solid and less like an omega's should. His eyebrows scrunched up and his mouth painted on a perfectly crafted scowl. It was this image that stomped past the first group of them on the sidewalk. Just catcalls from them, nothing he couldn't ignore.

He wasn't so lucky with the second group.

A hand shot out and grabbed the edge of his sweater vest. He stopped. The normal chill of fear crawled up his spine as he found himself at the whim of an alpha. Despite any inner strength, biologically he was well aware he had nothing on the physical capabilities of an alpha, and the twirling scent that blew on the wind from this group counted three alphas and a beta.

There was a tug. His stomach turned. No matter how many times it happened Arthur always had the same thought: this will be the one. The one that wouldn't let him escape, that would use that superior strength to leave him with his pants around his ankles between narrow walls and the rest of the forgotten trash. Arthur collected himself- though that fear, as always, would never truly leave until he was far out of reach- and braced himself.

"Hey, darling, what's this lumpy thing for? I bet you'd look a lot better without it. While you're at it you might as well get rid of the trousers too." The rest of the group snorted.

Arthur turned his head and twisted his body to face the group as best he could considering the hand still holding his clothing. As he tried to turn the hand let go so that he could do so, but now he was surrounded. His heart fluttered uncomfortably.

It was a tall alpha, taller than him, at least, but that wasn't difficult. She had razor cut short brown hair, tanned white skin, and deceptively warm brown eyes. She put two hands on her hips and her feet were in a wide stance against the concrete. When he turned, her eyes ranked obviously and without any attempt to conceal their wanderings across his frame, from his head to his toes and back.

"You aren't so bad," she stated, "Those eyebrows are monster, but we can fix those. No, you aren't too bad at all."

The other two alphas snorted. The beta sighed, apparently bored. Arthur stayed silent.

The alpha then leaned in and attempted to sniff uncomfortably close to Arthur's neck. Arthur could only take a half step back with the alphas behind him, but he did what he could.

"I'd appreciate it," he spoke for the first time, "if you would keep your presence out of my personal space," he sneered derisively, his heart beating in his throat.

The alpha's eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in anger.

"Who the hell do you think you are to say that to me?" She demanded.

"I think I'm the human being who you just cornered on the street and prevented from getting to his destination, and who would really appreciate being able to get back on his way without being accosted," Arthur snapped back, all fake bravado. It was, he had discovered, the best way to get away, but also a tactic that could easily backfire.

"What's wrong with you?" One of the alphas behind him exclaimed, taking a step back as if Arthur's lack of social convention would catch. Arthur didn't stay to hear more. Instead, he turned and manoeuvered his way through the gap the alpha who stepped back had created and smoothly continued down the street. There was a halfhearted "hey!" but no one bothered to pursue him.

Alphas were said to be the bravest, strongest, and most motivated of the natures. The most likely to stand up for themselves and what they believe.

Arthur knew the truth.

They were just self-entitled bullies who believed they could get whatever they wanted without expending too much effort. Therefore, when he threw a wrench in those plans they tended not to pursue, not to be 'motivated', but to back off and find easier prey. An alpha never expected an omega to resist their advances, to back talk them. They expected to be able to corner them on the street, grab the hands of complete strangers, sniff their throats without them objecting with anything more than maybe a strangled whimper against it, and when alphas ran into something that went contrary to that, they were afraid. This was how Arthur survived, by not doing anything that was expected of him.

It was hard to live in a world where a quarter of the population believed they were entitled to your body. Where others thought that just because you spent four days every few months begging for it, you must always want it. That they could get you down on your knees with nothing more than a growl. It was hard, but Arthur managed; because no one was entitled to him but himself, and society, and certainly no alpha, was ever going to convince him any differently.

The rest of the groups he passed before he made it to the station were much of the same. Two more alphas tried to physically stop him by grabbing him like the first one. One reached for his arse as he passed, but never made it due to Arthur having a lot of practise swatting away stray hands. One told him he belonged on his knees (only the thought of evading an assault charge keeps Arthur from kicking that one onto his own knees. Then again, who would believe the bloke was assaulted by an omega?).

On the bus itself, there was a lot of not-so-subtle sniffing and absolutely horrid pickup lines, mostly revolving around how poor Arthur, obviously deprived of an authoritative figure in his life due to his obvious lack of an alpha escort- familial or otherwise- must want some or other alpha's prick in him. Arthur politely replied that the only place he would want their prick, if God would be so kind, was in a bear trap. He felt a bit safer on the bus, enough to reply like that, but he still knew he was walking a thin line between enough to make them want to leave him alone, and enough to deserve being attacked. Still, only weak omegas responded with willing passivity, and Arthur refused to be weak.*

Finally, Arthur made it to the school building. It was one of the few coeducational schools in the area. He may not like alphas, but that did not mean he wouldn't bear being in the same classes as them if it meant he could get an equal education.

As per once or twice every few weeks, today there was a line of protesters outside the front of the building. They boasted signs with slogans such as 'Coeducation will ruin us all' 'Alphas only!' and 'Omegas don't need math to cook'. The last one was Arthur's personal favourite simply for the fact that it was a completely false statement and the dim wielder didn't even seem to realise it.

With a roll of his eyes, Arthur began his march into the building. A protester shouted some drivel at him about how he'll never find a proper mate if he knew quantum theory, as they do to all the omegas who pass, and, as he did every day, Arthur ignored him. Once inside, the raised voices were more of a dull roar that Arthur could easily relegate to background noise. The protesters were annoying, but dealing with them was a good deal better than the alternative of having to take four home ec. classes and two omega studies. Here he had already finished home ec and only has to take one omega studies a year. Not that he attended that class when he could avoid it.

Head still held up high and nose upturned to give off his best holier-than-thou attitude, Arthur stomped his way down the halls. Things were better inside the school, as people who dared attend generally originated from more progressive families, but microaggressions are hard for even the most progressive of alphas to realise they are committing, much less stop, and even the most progressive of omegas not to encourage. And most of them were not, by any stretch of the imagination- or at least Arthur's imagination though he fears many in the outside world would disagree- the most progressive bunch.

Therefore, as Arthur passed things were as they always were. Most ignored him, a few whispered, a few edged away out of fear- some out of the fear that his behaviour, which in their minds just must be caused by some sort of viral hormonal imbalance, was contagious; some simply out of the fear of what he will do to them if they get too close. Legally, Arthur can't fight with his fists, but there is no one who knows how to use their words better. He boasted the proud accomplishment of once bringing an alpha to tears.

His locker was on the second floor: three hundreds hallway. He switched out his maths book for his English book, before quickly backtracking to the center of a perpendicular hallway where a set of double doors led to the library. It was a grand library with shelves not only lining the walls but interspersed throughout the room and pitied up high with books of all sorts. Best of all, unlike other private libraries, there was not a single sign preventing an omega from going into certain sections.

It was in one of these sections that would normally be cordoned off to omegas where Arthur found his best friend.

Kiku Honda was a tranquil quiet beta, as most betas were. The difference was that he had never expected anything of Arthur based on any preconceived notions of omegahood, and he had accepted Arthur as the unruly force of nature he was. Arthur knew he could trust Kiku not to tell him to 'just take the compliment' next time an alpha reached for his arse, or blame preheating for every time Arthur got upset or angry. Very simply put, Kiku didn't treat Arthur the way society generally treated omegas. Kiku simply treated him like another beta, and doing so made Kiku one of the few people in Arthur's life that looked at him as an actual human being and not a stupid delicate object.

"Good morning, Kiku,"

"Good morning," Kiku responded in kind, flipping a page in his book without looking up. Arthur would usually pick up a book and begin reading too, but with the bell just a few minutes away he knew the effort would be for nil. Instead, he sat up straight in his seat, crossed his hands over the top of the bench, and lost himself to one of his favourite activities: people watching. Not for any genuine like or enjoyment of people, but for something of a more sinister nature. Simply put, watching people was the easiest way to find out all sorts of interesting information about them, and the more information he had about others that they wished to keep quiet, the easier it was for an omega such as himself to stay safe and unbothered.

It was in this pursuit of staying safe that Arthur became a master of manipulation, and, therefore, a people watcher.

On the shelf up from the row he was facing there were two missing books. In the gap left by those two missing books, he could see into the next aisle. In the next aisle, in the space left between the shelves and the wall, there was an alpha. Brown hair, expensive jacket, lean build. Ian McKinley, year thirteen like Arthur, mediocre grades, swimming team. Arthur had an ear to the ground at all times and made it his business to know such things.

Ian was searching through the books in front of him. Arthur knew this library like the back of his hand and he quickly searched his mind for the categorization of that specific row of books. Paranormal romance novels, the type made for tweenage omegas. Arthur snorted, it was a very unomegalike sound, and an omega searching through the shelves directly in front of him turned around to look at him disapprovingly until he realised he had found himself face to face with Arthur Kirkland, at which point the boy quickly snapped back to his book titles. Unfortunately, there was no more information to be found or entertainment to be had, as those two, Kiku, and Arthur himself were the only people in Arthur's line of sight, and his nose and ears told him there were only about five more people in the entire library at all. Shame.

Arthur spent another minute or so just reading the spines of the books he was staring at. Textbooks, the specific area he was facing dealt in theoretical mathematics. He quickly drunk up the titles of these books, looking for one of interest. Arthur tried to complete at least one book from each section, simply because he knew, as an omega, there were very few places he could find such information. 

He had just sorted the title 'Real World Applications to the Theories of Arthur Cayley'- Practical and a namesake, Arthur couldn't help but be curious- into his mind when the five-minute bell finally rang. Kiku gently closed his book and placed it in his backpack, stacking the other three next to him neatly on top of one another and smoothly standing and placing them in their correct slots on the shelves. Despite not being an omega drilled and taught since his youth to act as such, Kiku was one of the most graceful people Arthur knew. In fact, his quiet demeanor and gracefulness would almost lead one to mistake him as an omega from afar, if it weren't for his uncovered neck and often painfully neutral expression.

Arthur followed Kiku off the bench, and as soon as the beta had finished putting his books away he nodded at Arthur. Arthur nodded back, and they began their walk to their respective classes. Kiku to his Monday morning photography class, and Arthur to advanced English. The walk was mostly silent, as things often were with Kiku, but still companionable. Neither boy was driven to fill every moment with chatter and to them, the silence was peaceful and not awkward as it might have been perceived by others. Not to mention, with a beta by his side, Arthur got fewer stares and disapproving glances than he did walking the halls alone, and, though he's not exactly proud of it, he was glad for the occasional break.

The two of them split up with another mutual nod as Arthur started down the stairs while Kiku took an adjacent hallway.

"Good Luck, Arthur," Kiku wished Arthur. Arthur didn't speak much about things that make him uncomfortable except to rant on them as a source of aggravation, but Kiku was very perceptive. Therefore, he knew that Arthur had bittersweet feelings about his advanced English class. Arthur adored English: poetry and prose, obscure symbolism, and all varieties of figurative language set a fire in him that very few other things did. He loved the concept of the class itself, he just wasn't particularly fond of all the people involved in it.

It was the class in which he had to square his shoulders the strongest and hold his nose the highest, for in that classroom Arthur was the only omega in a sea of alphas and betas. It was common enough, the school was progressive but it wasn't an island. Outside forces still affected it and its students. By this grade level there were four basic categories that most omegas fit into: had already dropped out to have and raise families; were staying in school while raising families, which took considerable time and effort that didn't facilitate involvement in advanced courses; was planning to simply finish school and immediately have and raise a family, meaning they weren't particularly fastidious with their grades or courses; or were afraid of the persecution of society and their peers that was sure to happen should they take any class that distinguished them as being too intelligent. All this led to very few advanced courses with any omegas in them at all, and to this particular advanced English class having only one.

After mentally preparing himself, Arthur marched into the room and quietly took his customary seat in the front as the alpha students flooded in while chattering to each other rambunctiously and the beta students settled in their seats conversing more quietly.

Sitting in the front of this class served a dual purpose for Arthur. He sat in the front in most classes, simply so that he could actually learn and not be distracted by the slack offs playing spitball in the back. Here it was for the same reason, but also so that he could tell the alpha chauvinistic pig of a teacher that Arthur was neither afraid of nor intimidated by him. Mr. Andrews had been trying to get Arthur to drop out of the class from the moment the man shook his hand and realised he was an omega. Extremist point deductions, unjustified detention slips, public humiliation, if it existed this alpha had tried. Arthur knew, though, that this was, if not his first then his most realistic, test of what life would be like when he finished high school. He was going to finish school and pursue a serious career, alpha at his side or not (hopefully not), and no underpaid, egotistical, thirteenth year English teacher was going to stop him.

The bell rang and the students shuffled into their seats as Mr. Andrews rose from his and began roll call.

"Alright, Arlovskaya, Bonnefoy, Brown, Carter, Smith," after reading every name, more to himself than the class, he would look up and search briefly for the student, nodding to himself as he located him or her. "Karpusi, King, Arthur," there was no change in tone as the name was said, but Arthur watched his professor's eyes roam from Arthur's head to feet and feet to head as the man checked for any small infraction in dress code or anything else that could justify sending Arthur out. He wouldn't find anything. Arthur was a quick study. After the first time he was sent to the office for wearing "too thin" a neckband, Arthur always made sure his neckwear was drawn up and concealing, his trousers to his ankles despite propriety only demanding they reach mid-knee, and his sleeves to his wrists despite any social rule on arm coverage being deemed as archaic more than ten years ago. This alpha would find nothing in his dress to fault him for.

The roll finally concluded with:

"Hassan, Westly" and the teacher put his book down on his desk with a harsh thud before striding over to the whiteboard.

"Alright class, what did you all think about this weekend's reading assignment?" He questioned, sitting down on the stool in front of the board with his feet in two separate continents.

Silence.

"Please, not all at once," he droned, brown eyes crinkling in amusement.

"It was... Off-putting," volunteered one alpha,

"Yes, off-putting!" Exclaimed the teacher, "that's an opinion. Off-putting how?"

"Well, I just want to know what this chick's problem is" added another alpha, "she just starts freaking out over her mate's hand. It's pretty strange and dramatic,"

The teacher laughed, "Yes, Mr. Brown, well strange and dramatic seems to be the default for omegas,"

The alphas of the class broke out in snorts and laughter. The betas chuckled. Arthur turned red, though from embarrassment or anger it was hard to tell.

"What about you, Arthur," the teacher singled him out, "what do you think of the climax of the story?"

He knew the question was not just a question, but a test. Well, if he thought he was going to catch Arthur having not done the assignment, he was sorely incorrect.

"I would say, sir," the last word was strained but not strained enough that he would be called out on it, "That there is no climax of the storyline rather it is a gradual realization by the omega woman portrayed through the symbolism of the hand. Therefore one could conclude that the climax comes in the moments before her realization is complete, but that occurs alongside the closing action of the narrative."

The teacher frowned.

He had said too much, he knew he had said too much. There was only too much to be said about this story. What did it represent but the imprisonment of already limited freedoms that mating brought to an omega? It was clear as day in the story and the symbolism and even the authoress herself who was, in fact, an omega. How, though, could this be the answer an alpha teacher in a room full of alphas and betas was searching for? No, in this environment his interpretation would be dismissed, thought of as whimsical, over-emotional, and unfounded, no matter how well he supported it. Yet, what else could he say? What could possibly be the literary significance of this story if it didn't symbolize exactly what it was meant to symbolize? How did alphas interpret an omega's cry for help?

"Yes, well, Arthur, it is a study of realization. Can anybody tell me of what?... Yes, Arlovskaya?"

"The woman is coming to realise, through the hand, the power of her alpha," answered the smirking alpha.

"Yes, wonderful," exclaimed the teacher, clapping his hands on his thighs, "that's exactly it. She is realizing the physical and rightful superiority of her alpha over her by observing the strength of the hand. Early in the story, we see her remark on its large size, representing its ability to hold her as it sees fit, and as her mate is lying with his arm around her she has realised that it is only right that it do so,"

Arthur resisted every temptation to snort, knowing it would certainly get him reprimanded, thrown out, or questioned. Weakness and subservience, that was how an alpha interpreted an omega's plea. He was not surprised.

"The symbolism in this story, as you can all see, is actually quite straightforward. Hence, its use in the study of symbolism," the teacher continued, "the hand represents the alphainity of her mate, and therefore his right to head over her. She is realizing this power and reflecting on her awe over it."

Now Arthur's hands were clenching. Maybe it would have been better if that had been the actual message. At least then he could blame the bigoted author for writing it instead of his bigoted teacher for his interpretation. At least then he could pity the omega authoress for writing it instead of feeling this burning anger towards his alpha teacher for dismissing the true nature of her hard work. For dismissing the clear fear and imprisonment the fictional omega felt while trapped in the powerful and therefore potentially violent arms of her mate. Did everything have to be about alpha superiority?

As the teacher kept prattling, Arthur turned his head away, looking back so that he could school his expression. His eyes accidentally made contact with a pair of pale blue ones. The face they were attached to was firmly scrunched up in distaste. When the owner of that face realised he had made eye contact with Arthur, his demeanor softened, almost apologetic. Arthur's crunched up hand relaxed for a moment before tensing up again as he quickly sneered and looked away.

Francis Bonnefoy was the most disgusting sort of alpha. Oh, he was pompous, arrogant, sexualizing of omegas (unsettlingly sexualizing of everyone, really), just like the rest. The thing was, though, that Francis pretended to have compassion. He pretended to genuinely care about the pain and discomfort of others, and to express a detached disapproval over the societal normality of undermining omegas.

Arthur knew it was all a ploy to catch unsuspecting omegas in his web (after all, he had been caught in that web for a short time, once, when he was younger and more naive and starved for justification), and Arthur himself was often the fly Francis had his beady eyes set on. Luckily, compassion was a characteristic Arthur didn't partake in. Contrary to what generally accepted stereotypes about his nature would lead one to believe, Arthur found it very difficult to sympathize with the pain and displeasure of others. He could feel righteous anger for the victims of injustice, but he couldn't necessarily feel bad for them. This quality was a part of Francis' arsenal that was not going to entice Arthur.

Still, his touches were always too familiar and his tone too gentle. Arthur sometimes got the feeling Francis pitied him. Dealing with Bonnefoy was a trial of Arthur's patience and always ended with Arthur wanting to sock the alpha in his smug face.

At this moment, though, Arthur thought that maybe, just maybe, Francis had seen the story the way Arthur had, and for that he was… not completely disgusted with the alpha.

"Alright-" an aggravating half hour later the teacher stood from the stool and sauntered over to his desk, where he picked up a notepad- "now that we've properly analysed the text, I am going to assign each of you either this story or Friday's story to write an essay paragraph on. I will give you each a prompt for your story, and will expect you to use the symbolism in the story in order support your interpretation of the prompt. I will be handing each prompt out individually, so go ahead and talk amongst yourselves while I go around."

Chatter immediately burst out around Arthur, but he was careful to keep a straight face and continue studying the board, which contained only the name of the text and the page numbers it could be located on. Even had he wanted to, he couldn't speak. The teacher would call him out on it with an excuse about not discussing the story or something of the sort, really it was simply that 'omegas should be seen and not heard'. Outdated, yes, but no more rare for being so.

As the professor made his way around, Arthur silently prayed that he would receive Friday's story, which was unrelated to the plight of omegas in any way, and of which he could write an accurate, to the professor's standards, analysis of without giving in to any sort of temptation.

Arthur snuck a peak at Francis, who was now looking down at his textbook and tracing something with his finger. He was as pristine as ever, light blond shoulder-length hair pulled back into a purposely mussed ponytail, royal purple button-down shirt- probably some expensive material, dark jeans that hugged his frame.

Arthur wondered again what Francis' true thoughts on the story were, and debated the pros and cons of going up to him after class so he could know for sure. His farce of gentleness and care meant Arthur knew he didn't have to fear around him, as long as he could stomach all the fluff and pomp... and stayed in a public area.

The teacher made it to Arthur's desk.

"Arthur, you will be writing about the central meaning of today's story, including symbolism to represent the author's purpose in writing this short story-" and as simple as that the man walked away. He had spent more time with everyone else, perhaps giving pointers or even compromising on the subject, but he wouldn't compromise with Arthur. Arthur knew this prompt was on purpose. The man had purposely told him to write on a central meaning that Arthur suspected the teacher suspected that Arthur did not agree with and that was demoralizing to omegas.

He probably got off on an omega writing about how utterly pliant he should be to the will of an alpha.

As soon as he thought it Arthur felt distinctly nauseous. The thought of alphas sexualizing him often made him angry, the thought of this alpha, his teacher, not only seeing him as incompetent because of his nature but also as more of a sex object than a student made him feel sick and caused his right hand to let out a minuscule tremble that Arthur immediately hated himself for. No, it was best not to think about it. The teacher had had him write this specific prompt just to antagonize him. That was it. There was nothing else to it.

Arthur flipped open his notebook and perfected his notes on the story, prompt, and anything he could remember about the central meaning discussed in class. He certainly would not be able to remember it himself, and writing anything contrary to it was just the sort of excuse the teacher was looking for to fail him. Arthur continued jotting down these notes as the teacher continued visiting students until the bell indicating the end of the period rang. As everyone rushed out of their seats and gathered their things, Arthur carefully recapped his pen, gently blew on his notebook to dry the ink, and lightly closed the papers over each other. He stood up and picked his satchel off the floor all in one smooth motion, and slipped his notebook into it in the next. By the time Arthur slung the bag over his shoulder, the last of the students were fleeing through the door. Arthur squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and went to follow them, hyperaware of the one person still left in the room. As he passed through the doorway he swore he could feel the hot gaze of eyes studiously following him out.


	2. Alfred I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Alfred F. Jones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, not gonna lie. You can skip this chapter. If I were trying to publish this, I would delete it. It doesn't add a ton to the overall plot of the story. So if you want some character exploration and to know more about Alfred and the world and stuff, read it, i don't think it's bad. But if you just want to move on with the story itself... ya.

Alfred ran two fingers over the bottom of his jaw once and then twice in front of the bathroom mirror, checking for any leftover stubble. 

At least, that's what he convinced himself. 

It seemed every other guy was shaving every day or risking an itchy shadow. Alfred was lucky if he could get the razor to his chin once a week without cutting off nothing but skin. Despite this, he continued to 'shave' daily. Self-fulfilling prophecy, he hoped. He knew it would grow out one day, the same way that someday the final bits of baby fat that had been clinging on stubbornly for years would finally melt off his face. 

Satisfied with his findings, Alfred stepped back and ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, moving it to one side, wrinkling his nose when he found he didn't like it, and shifting it to the other side. He then decided it was too neat and ruffled it a bit, only to then decide it was now too messy and smooth it back down a bit. Of course, no matter what he did, that little bit in the front refused to stand down. He glared at as if he could get it to behave with the power of his mind. It seemed so childish to him, and he worried that people laughed at it behind his back. He had tried cutting it off, but it just looked even worse until it grew back. There was nothing he could do about it now, though, so he ignored it and concentrated his efforts back on the rest of his looks. 

When Alfred was finally satisfied, he flashed himself a double thumbs up in the mirror, after which he left the restroom to pick out an outfit for the day: worn jeans, a t-shirt that was a bit on the tight side around the shoulders and chest, but just subtly loose enough around the waist to hide the embarrassing bit of fat that seemed to cling just above the line of his jeans no matter what new diet he went on, and his favorite jacket- an old bomber one that his grandsire had worn in WWII when she was a fighter pilot. Alfred then fiddled with his glasses for a bit. Glasses or contacts? Glasses or contacts? He finally decided on the glasses as he usually did. He thought they gave him an air of sophistication and his face the illusion of being a bit sharper than it actually was.

Satisfied with how he looked- just casual enough to seem like he wasn't trying but definitely not sloppy- he grabbed his blue backpack, stuffed a few loose sheets on his bedside table into it, and hung it over his shoulder as he rushed out of his room and all but tripped his way down the stairs. 

"Geez, there you are!" 

Alfred's oldest omega brothers stood at the bottom of the stairs, one tapping a foot impatiently. Mason Jones' face was arranged in his usual slight frown, made to look amusing by the too large sunglasses that seemed to have a taken a ubiquitous place on the bridge of his nose. 

"Ya ya, I'm coming," Alfred smiled back, and then frowned. "Mason, your neckband."

"Huh?" The generously tanned boy reached a hand up to feel the dark fabric that hid his neck, "Ya, it's there." Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Ya, barely. It's practically hanging around your clavicle. You mind fixing it, Mattie?"

Behind Mason, as unassuming as ever, stood Alfred's one older brother- older by only a few minutes, that is. He hadn't said anything, but his face was turned into a frown and he was continuously shooting anxious glances at the wall clock. It was obvious Matthew thought they should have left already, and he was getting increasingly nervous the closer it got to the ringing of the first bell. Upon being addressed, however, his frown flipped into a gentle smile and he quietly moved forward to delicately lift his brother's neckband until it was tucked neatly against the place where his neck met his jaw.

"There you go," he nearly whispered in his soft voice. 

Matthew and Mason were both omegas, but they couldn't have been more different. Mason loved to run around outside, he enjoyed the mud and dirt and tended to speak a little more loudly than was strictly appropriate. His pants were the shortest they sold for omegas so that he could keep from getting mud stains on them, and he rolled his sleeves up for the same reason. His hair was a black color that was a few shades darker than his brown eyes and his grin was often wolfish.

Matthew, on the other hand, had soft bordering-on-white blond hair that hung in perfect waves down to his chin and was almost cottony in texture. His eyes were a light blue that almost matched Alfred's but were just a shade or two off, catching the light in a way that made them sometimes seem almost violetish. He was quiet and soft-spoken, not speaking unless spoken to, and walked slowly with even steps. His clothing was always immaculate and he hardly ever wore neckbands because his closet consisted almost entirely of turtlenecks that went to, and sometimes past, his wrist and all the way up to the bottom of his chin.

In other words, Mason was an unconventional omega and Matthew was a perfect one, if a little taller than most would prefer. 

Alfred couldn't help, then, that seeing them together often made him chuckle. Still, Mason was just turning thirteen, and these things were less and less acceptable with each passing year. Soon he would have to stop playing in the mud entirely and start more carefully observing social convention. Their sire had already made a point of frowning down upon Mason's slightly too sun-kissed skin.

"Well, guys, let's head out. I'll meet you at the door in a sec," Alfred announced. 

His two siblings headed towards the door as directed, and Alfred strolled into the kitchen. 

In the kitchen there stood a woman who bore little resemblance to her eldest three children, though she shared Mason’s eyes and hair along with Alfred and Matthew’s height. 

"Good Morning, dear," the woman greeted in a voice that seemed like it should be loud but came out strained. She was their bearer, Kayaweta Williams. It was a last name that, as per tradition, the oldest omega of the family, Matthew, shared. Maria and the little twins took after her the most in terms of looks, Maria practically being an alpha version of their bearer with an only slightly lighter skin tone. In contrast, most people assumed that the darker quality to Alfred, Matthew, and Mason’s skin were dark tans rather than their natural skin tone. Particularly in Alfred and Matthew since they were both blond and blue-eyed like their sire.

"I thought you might be late, so I prepared something for you." Her ankle long dress swished around her knees as she walked back to the stove. She flipped something from a pan onto a plate with toasted bread and then handed the disposable plate to Alfred. 

"Thanks, mom," Alfred smiled.

"Have a good day at school, dear," his bearer requested, placing a gloved hand on his check for a single pat. Her white teeth shone against her light ochre skin for a second before her smile collapsed back on itself.

"Will do!" Alfred exclaimed, running out the door and already taking a bite of his egg sandwich. "Let's go!" he said to his siblings around the mouthful of food. He could almost swear he saw Matthew roll his eyes, but that would be silly. Matthew would never do something so improper. 

Alfred threw the door open, barely catching it before it boomed against the side of the house, and stepped out. He paused only long enough to hold the door open for Mason and then Matthew before he slammed it shut again to the sound of two thank yous, one rushed and one quiet. He jumped down the porch steps in a single leap.

"Don't even think about it," he shot back at Mason, who looked like he was about to mimic the action. Alfred's alpha, that is to say, his sire, had been very adamant that it was time he act more stern with his brother with mimicking Alfred as an alpha instead of Matthew, the omega role model he should be copying. "Do it like Matthew," Alfred instructed. 

Mason frowned as he turned his head to watch his other older sibling gently lay one hand on the rail, taking the steps one fluid movement at a time before he settled himself at the bottom. Mason's nose crumpled and Alfred could already see the complaint coming out of his mouth, so Alfred turned his body and braced his feet against the floor. He opened his mouth to give the command of an alpha… and then looked into Mason’s round innocent face. The kid just wanted to have a bit of fun. It wasn’t a crime. 

Alfred swallowed his words. He knew what his sire would do, and yet...

"Like Matthew, please," He sighed, pushing as much of his disapproval in as possible. Mason wavered a bit but then walked down the stairs. Not gently like Matthew, but it was something. 

Alfred smiled in approval, though inwardly he was chastising himself. He felt like there was something wrong with him everytime he couldn’t issue a command to an omega. It was supposed to be instinct. He knew he could do it, he had used the ability on an alpha or two before just to seem more threatening, but he had never done it to an omega who would be nearly compelled to obey. It just… made him feel… something unpleasant. Though not doing it made him feel like a pushover.

Luckily, in his family, he was pretty firmly established in his position. Matthew would never disagree and Mason was usually kind enough not to. Maria was another problem entirely. However, she was only eight, and that fact served to already place Alfred in a solid position of authority over her since he was so much older. In fact, Alfred suspected that was really the only reason he could get her to listen to him at all. She was as stubborn as Mason, but with the added self-empowerment of being an alpha.

Alfred sauntered over to his baby. That is to say, to his Mustang Camaro, a classic yellow with black racing stripes. He opened the back door and Mason scrambled in just as hyper as ever. Moving to the other side, Alfred did the same for Matthew, who carefully settled himself into the seat and nodded when he was comfortable.

After he closed the passenger side and settled in the driver's seat, shooing aside a McDonald's wrapper as he did so, Alfred finished up his egg sandwich in two more bites and backed out of the driveway. 

"So, Mason, anything interesting happening in school?" Alfred started a conversation. Of course, he was still chewing so it sounded more like "Mo, mafom, hyfifying hyphereohing hhohing hmph scoph?"

"Alfred," Matthew whispered. It wasn't said in any specific tone, but Alfred knew what he meant. He swallowed and repeated.

"Not really, this school is still so boring," Mason complained. He had been complaining about this ever since he entered elementary school at the start of the year. Before that, like all other kids under the age of thirteen, he was enrolled in elementary. The only level which was universally coeducational, as it was where children developed social skills and both omegas and alphas were taught the same basic math and science. 

Now that he was physically presenting his nature, Mason was going to an omega middle school which, as far as Alfred could gather since he had obviously never experienced it, taught classes on the practical applications of math and science already learned and a variety of home ec, health, and other such classes. 

"Oh, it can't be so bad," Alfred thought it sounded great, "you should be glad you didn't have to learn physics," he laughed.

Matthew turned to look even farther out the window. Mason just snorted.

"I think I'd rather do that. All the other omegas do any more at recess is hang out near the fence to try to spot the alphas at the school next door, and Kali went into heat yesterday. She's the first one in the entire class!" Alfred could just imagine Mason wrinkling his nose. "It was really weird, she bloodied her hand trying to climb the fence!" He exclaimed. 

"Ya, well they say first heats are the hardest to control. The experience of that first wave of hormones hitting is supposedly euphoric in its effects. She probably didn't even realize it hurt," Alfred explained, basing his response off of what he had learned in one of his lessons on omega care in his health class. 

"Don't be too harsh on her when she comes back," whispered Matthew. He turned back in his seat to look at Mason. "She's probably really scared of what everyone will say, and it happens to all omegas at some point. She was lucky…” he looked at Alfred for a moment and then back at Mason, “Just remember that you'll be in her shoes soon enough, Mason."

Mason was really the only person Matthew had any dominance over in the family and therefore could give direct commands to. Alfred was technically the younger twin, but he was an alpha. Maria was only eight, but again an alpha. The younger twins, Samuel and Rachel, were only a few months old and unable to understand any commands given. They were both omegas, but by the time they grew up Matthew would almost certainly already be mated and out of the house. 

Mason nodded, and then added "I don't want to go into heat," in a grumble. Alfred heard the thump that signified the boy leaning back against the door. Matthew didn't reply as he turned back to the windshield. 

"I'm sure it's not so bad," Alfred assured, "I mean, you get some days off from school and you're given free reign for five days when no one expects you to do anything. Sounds like a good deal to me."

Matthew looked down at his cupped hands resting on his lap.

"Here we are," Alfred unnecessarily announced, turning into the drop-off area of Mason's school. 

"Bye, Alfred! Bye, Matthew!" Mason exclaimed as he shot out of the back seat, closing the door roughly behind him. 

Alfred watched Mason to make sure he made it securely into the gate a few steps away and, satisfied that he was fine, pulled away and started the drive to his and Matthew's school.

As he usually did, Matthew deflated when Mason got out of the car. He always seemed to lose energy and a little bit of that perfect posture whenever no one but Alfred was around. Alfred never designed to point it out to Matthew.

"So..." Alfred tapped the wheel with his pointer fingers. Conversation was also a good deal more stilted when it was only the two of them, though Alfred secretly though that had more to do with the fact that he felt the need to fill every silence with conversation while Matthew felt that to do so was rather improper then with anything else. "Learn anything interesting recently?" Alfred tried, not expecting much to come out of that conversation. Matthew never learned anything that could be interesting to Alfred. 

"No, not particularly," Matthew predictably answered.

"Cool...Great...Wonderful..." Alfred trailed off. He was glad of the immediate distraction of having to make a sharp shift into another lane in order to not miss his exit. At the very least, unlike all his other siblings and even, occasionally, his sire, Matthew never raised a single complaint about Alfred's driving. In fact, if Alfred didn't know any better, he would say the omega even seemed to enjoy the thrill of ninety-five degree turns and sudden applications of the breaks. 

When Alfred had straightened out the car, Matthew even giggled lightly. It wasn't his real laugh. Alfred, as Matthew's twin, was the only one that knew that. Unknown to the general populace, Matthew's real laugh was just as loud and brash as Alfred's. Unfortunately, it was improper for an omega to laugh like that. Alfred frowned as the thought hit him, but then shrugged it off. 

From that point on more awkward silence prevailed. At least, Alfred thought it was awkward. Matthew seemed pretty calm. Then again, Matthew always seemed calm. Finally, they blessedly turned into the parking lot of the school. Even though the two school buildings themselves were separated by an old concrete wall disguised as regal under ivy and rose plants on the omega side- mostly because the ones in the alpha side had all been plucked and shredded- the two things they did share were a single large assembly room and the parking lot; the assembly room for dances, coed after-school activities, and weekly social events and the parking lot because most omegas were driven to school by their alphas or sometimes a beta. Very few omegas owned a driver's license and even less a car. Omega ownership wasn't illegal or anything, it was just generally accepted as silly for omegas to drive since they were going to be escorted to all public places by an alpha, or at the very least a beta, anyway.

Alfred parked in his spot and hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind him before he walked over to open Matthew's door for him.

"Thank you, Alfred," Matthew acknowledged as he slid out of his seat. Alfred nodded and looked up. The alpha getting out of her car three spots down had paused at the sound of Matthew's voice, and his eyes were now looking up and down the sight of Alfred’s brother. Alfred growled from somewhere deep in his chest. The alpha, who was a few inches shorter than Alfred and not as broad, assessed Alfred once and then twice. Alfred internally checked that his glasses were on straight, and his jacket looked casual over his jeans. He was on the verge of checking to make sure he was wearing pants at all when the other alpha bowed his head and looked away. Alfred thought he might have heard Matthew sigh, but it could have just been an unusually loud exhale. 

Alfred escorted his brother directly to the looming gate of Bridgewater High*: Omega Division. Stationed there was an unusually large beta guard who was in charge of making sure no alphas moved past that point. With a small sniff of his nose, he pushed open the gate for Matthew, all the while glaring at Alfred to make sure he didn't even attempt to take a step forward. 

"I'll be here at the gate to pick you up at exactly 2:30 to drive you home and return so I’m on time to practice. If you are not here around 2:30 I might have to leave so I can catch Mason, at which point getting home could take you hours." Alfred warned. Matthew nodded. 

"Yes, Alfred," his jaw was clenched and his teeth didn't move as he spoke. Alfred found that a bit odd, it seemed an uncomfortable way to speak. 

"Alright then, see you later, Mattie!" He smiled nodding at the beta guard who closed the gate behind his brother's retreating back. In some fit of melancholy that Alfred couldn't quite give reason to, he watched Matthew draw closer to the front door for just a little longer than he normally would, which is to say he normally wouldn't at all. His omega brother made his way as gracefully as always down the lane: steps measured, eyes on the floor, and back slightly curved with shoulders hunched in as they always were while he hugged his single large textbook to his chest. No one looked in Matthew's direction and he didn't look in anyone else's. He made it to the front door, which another beta employee opened for him, and entered the school without disruption. Alfred bit the inside of his check in some sort of ambiguous discomfort as he watched Matthew’s lonely defeated trudge through the straight iron bars.

Then he turned around and headed towards the gate of his own school, wiping the feeling from his heart. 

"Yo, Alfred, what up?" 

The greeting came before Alfred had even made it to the gate. It was just a casual acquaintance who had turned away from a group to acknowledge Alfred's passing. The rest of the group all smiled and offered similar greetings that Alfred returned in kind.

"Nothing much, man. How did practice go?" Alfred shifted slightly in his walk, lifting his shoulders to look more confident. 

"Eh. Fine. The varsity team is intense, but not really overall different. I think we really got a shot this year."

"Cool! See you later, man," Alfred continued on his way. Pulling open the large gates he walked himself into an area that looked like a mirror world version of the omega grounds he had just been observing through the iron gate. The landscaping and the building facade were almost identical. The differences stemmed from the fact that where there should have been grass there was mostly pulled up dirt from trampling feet and trips, slips, and falls; and part of the left side of the building had been graffitied this morning. Alfred knew it had been done this morning because they painted over the wall every night. Until the end of the day, though, the newly added block letters that spelled out an expletive would be highly visible. 

Some feet to his right, a few of Alfred's football buddies were predictably passing around a pigskin. To his left two alphas' play fighting was devolving into actual fighting as they started to yell at each other about an omega whose scent clung strongly to both of them. Alfred wrinkled his nose. It really was disgusting when an omega slept around. 

Alfred quickly made his way past those two, all the while responding happily to 'hellos' and 'heys' and 'what's ups' until he joined up with his friends juggling the football. 

"Hey, Alfred!" A thin dark brown skinned alpha changed the trajectory she had been about to throw the ball in and instead lobbed it at Alfred in a beautiful spinning spiral.

Alfred plucked it out of the air before responding with a forcefully casual shrug. 

"Hey," 

That greeting was followed by those of the other members of their uneven circle, and Alfred returned them in kind as he tossed the ball over the head of a tall pale redheaded guy who ran backward, pulling up what little grass there was behind him, to catch it securely in his arms. 

"So, Alfred," started a different female alpha, this one with peach skin and dirty blonde hair that grew down to her waist in messy waves, "we were just talking about that fucking hot, pun intended, omega that started this year. You seen him?"

"I'm going to need more details than that," Alfred laughed.

"Long legs and damn curvy in all the right places, dark hair and the greenest eyes you've ever seen," answered a brown-haired male alpha with sandy skin. 

"Male?" Clarified Alfred. He got an affirmation. "Oh, ya, I've seen him. Jason, I think."

"Dude! How do you know that?"

"I have an omega brother, remember? Mentioned him once." It had been a passing mention, Jason was Matthew's new partner in one or other of his classes. Alfred had nothing against the omega, but he didn’t really find him that attractive, even though he could see, conventionally, how he might be so. He was just too... Well, Alfred couldn't put his finger on it, but the omega was definitely too something.

"Well, forget his name," the last unspoken member of their group scoffed," I just want to know what he looks like on his knees," she made a sort of crude pelvic motion using the football with a sly smirk.

Alfred laughed.

Everyone else joined in in agreement.

"He have an alpha?" the first girl aimed at Alfred. Alfred shrugged, he didn't know anything more than his name. Then he worried that a shrug was too lazy and unsatisfactory an answer, so he quickly searched for something else to say. "Don't know, he isn't bonded though," he thought back to the times he'd maybe seen him while picking up and dropping off Matthew, "and I've never seen him with any sort of familial alpha," he added.

"Probably from a beta family, then. God, doesn't that make life easier. The beta raised ones are always so confused and desperate, makes 'em over-eager to please in the nest… or anywhere else you can get them alone," the brown haired boy joked with a wink.

"Well, not easier for him," Alfred added, feeling sympathy for the poor kid who didn't have an alpha to take care of him. 

"I guess not, but that's perfect one-night material right there," the blonde licked her lips.

At that Alfred couldn't help but imagine Jacob lying in a rumpled nest with his skin flushed, one hand fisted in a body pillow, pretty green eyes half-lidded, and long legs spread, with no other alphas even detectable. Alfred couldn't help but agree.

When the five-minute bell rung the pigskin was dropped- it was school property probably purchased in some sort of bid to get alphas to channel their destructive energy to something less messy- and the group headed inside.

"See you later, guys," the blond and the redhead both shouted out as they headed down a different hallway than the rest of the group. Soon after, the rest followed in their own separate directions, and Alfred was the only one left still going straight. His class was near the end of the same hallway that the front door led straight into. 

Advanced Placement Chemistry, Alfred loved science as much as the next guy (probably more), but even he could admit it wasn't the best way to start out a Monday morning. Now if it was physics, there's a pick me up. Well, it could have been worse. At least it wasn't English. 

Alfred sat in his usual spot, not too close to the front that he got mixed up with all the overachieving teacher's pets, but not so far back that it seemed he wasn't even paying attention either.

"Hey, Alfred," greeted his lab partner. He was an averagely sized male alpha with a light umber skin tone.

"Hey, Eric," Alfred greeted back.

"Did you get the calculations for the titration?" Eric asked,

"Ya, totally. Here, man" Alfred bent into his bag and pulled out his lab notebook, flipping it open on the desk to a page near the front. The school year had just started, they were still in their first lab.

"Cool, thanks, man" Eric started to fix his problem to match up with Alfred's, continuing conversation as he did so. Alfred hoped he hadn’t made any stupid mistakes. 

"How do you think the baseball team's going to do this season? They kinda sucked ass last year,"

Alfred snorted.

"Tell me about it. But no, I've talked to one of the players this morning, he said it's not looking too shabby. Thinks they got a chance this year,"

"That's good, think you can say the same for football when it starts?"

"Ya, of course, man, we're three years undefeated! My team's running hot. I don't see any problems turning up,"

"That's cool, are you—"

The bell rang and the teacher ordered everyone to gather their lab supplies, effectively breaking off whatever Eric had been about to say next. 

They both got out of their seats to get their stuff. When they got back to the lab table Alfred and Eric realized they had both gotten sodium nitrate and hydrochloric acid, but nobody had gotten the flask.

"Dude, the flask," Eric pointed out. Alfred bristled at the insinuation.

"Ya, someone should get that," he harshly replied. 

They both paused for a moment.

"I got the chemicals!" Alfred pointed out.

"So did I!" Eric replied. 

Alfred placed his right hand on the desk and slid it forward a bit, leaning with his shoulders.

"I have the chemicals. Get the flask," he demanded.

The corner of Eric's mouth shifted upwards in amusement.

"I'm not an omega. You can't tell me what to do just by sounding scary,"

Alfred flinched a little at his slip up but covered it up by shifting to stand up straighter and lean forward farther. One. Two. Three. Four. Five seconds of eye contact. Maybe he should just go grab the flasks. But what if Eric lost all respect for him? Who else was watching their little showdown? What would they think of him if he backed down?

Luckily, Eric grabbed his bottles and headed towards the cabinets before Alfred had to answer any of that. Alfred sighed in relief as a rush of satisfaction flowed through him. There was no feeling like the one an alpha got from being in control. It was a biological reaction, learning about it had been an important class in health. 

Alphas had a hormonal system in which chemicals were released that rewarded acts of dominance with pleasure. Omegas had one that did the same with acts of submission, so he heard. Therefore, just as pleased as an alpha felt dominating, an omega felt submitting. It truly was a rather efficient system in Alfred's opinion.

When Eric came back he banged the beaker on the table as they both donned their aprons and goggles.

"No hard feelings?"Alfred offered, maybe a bit too hopeful.

"Na," Eric replied with a smile.

At this stage in their lives, alphas often got into dominance fights for the pettiest of reasons. If they didn't forgive each other easily they would soon run out of friends. The fights were simply a part of development. The same way, Alfred had been taught, that omegas needed to regularly hear commands from an alpha to grow up correctly. It was why beta parents often had problems.

They set up the titration in companionship. Discussing stats and opinions about different sports teams and offering suggestions to each other about the lab as they watched the liquid slowly drip into the beaker. 

"Dude, that's it, pink," Eric quickly turned off the tap and Alfred grabbed the solution. He surveyed it for a minute and then shrugged. 

"Looks about right, what is it?"

"Point eighty-three," the other alpha replied. 

"Cool. Move on to the next one?"

Alfred poured the contents of the beaker down the sink as Eric nodded and did the same with the pipette. 

"Alright, class," the teacher announced about an hour later as she found that everyone was finished with at least their third titration, "I want each partnership to write their results on the whiteboard under the appropriate columns. Please take notes on the results of your peers, as you will be asked to average them out and come up with error analysis," she reminded.

Alfred dogged over to the board and grabbed a marker, writing their results at the very top. The beta he passed the marker to afterward rolled her eyes, and Alfred deflated a bit in embarrassment as he headed back to his workstation to collect his books.

“See you later, dude,” Alfred threw out as he scooped up his stuff and stridded out of the classroom. 

“See you later,” Eric replied as he preoccupied himself with stacking his own stuff.

The halls were, as always, a mess. With alphas running, skidding, and talking boisterously in groups. Alfred took up a light jog as he weaved between, around, and over arms, sides, and sprawled out legs, throwing greetings all the while. 

He was just taking a corner when another alpha slammed into him while trying to catch a ball someone else had thrown to her from a good distance down the corridor.

In a bit of bad luck, Alfred stumbled sideways and slammed directly into The Portal. All the alphas close enough to notice the commotion, which was about five plus the one that had slammed into him, quieted and stared. Alfred backed up and ran a hand through his hair, chuckling just a bit nervously at the beta guard that was giving him an acidic stare.

“Ha,” he laughed lightly, “sorry, man,” the guard just stared some more.

The Portal was the name alphas had given to the door that connected the alpha side of the school to the omega one. It was for strict use by betas only, as they were the only ones who could take classes in both schools. Rather than go out to the front gate only to double back on the other side, they took The Portal. In other words, a normal hallway that you would think was holy ground with the way the school board treated it. That, combined with the fact that it practically took you to a whole different world, had earned it it’s universal nickname. It was kept under constant surveillance from both sides from the moment the school opened to the second the doors were closed after the last extracurricular activity. 

The board was not about to let its reputation go to the wayside because they didn’t prevent a rowdy alpha from taking advantage of an impressionable omega. The guards that were stationed there, as well as the ones in the front of the school, were just about the meanest betas any of the alphas had ever met, and all agreed they were the only ones possibly worth an alpha’s fear. 

“Well… I’ll just be going then,” Alfred flashed a smile and backed up a little (not that he was actually afraid, it was just…). The beta grunted and resumed his stoic post in front of The Portal’s plain white door. Alfred pivoted and strode away as the alphas around him snorted a bit, one offering a ‘sorry, man’. He flushed in embarrassment. Alfred knew he was imagining it, but he thought he could still feel the disapproving eyes of the beta and laughing eyes of the alpha’s watching him as he resumed his jog down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tip to all aspiring writers out there, as a general rule, don't start a chapter or story with characters getting up or getting ready. I had this laid out a long time ago, so it's too late for me. XD Plus since it's fanfiction i can count on my readers already being attached to the characters, but seriously, try not to do it. lol. 
> 
> Next chapter: A little more of Arthur's... less likable side, since we've gotten so much of Alfred's. from here the chapters will prob be a sort of half and half deal in regards to perspective.


	3. Converging Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred gets some news and Arthur tries to ignore everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time we got a bit of Alfred's bad side, this time... we get a little more of that, but also some of why Arthur ain't exactly a great role model either.  
> I feel like maybe there should be a warning here? idk. To be clear, there's no self-harm, though. It's mostly derogatory language (the b-word) and violent threats and language that aren't perceived by mc as negatively as they should be (again, i feel the need to stress they are BOTH unreliable narrators, not just Alfred).

It was three days later before anything much different happened in Alfred’s routine. Not that his day was particularly structured, but surprises like the one he soon faced didn’t exactly pop up all the time, even if he really should have seen the signs. 

“Alfred,” there was a light knock on his bedroom door accompanied by a lighter voice. 

“Ya, Mattie?” Alfred shouted back.

“Dinner’s ready,”

“Cool!” Alfred slammed closed his textbook and had the door open before Mattie had even walked the few steps over to their younger sister, Maria’s, room to repeat the process. 

Alfred rushed down the hall and practically slid down the stairs before rushing into the dining room and finding his seat at the table. Alfred only slowed down when he realized his head alpha, that is to say, his sire as he had no grandparents, was already seated. His sire was always telling him that alphas didn’t ‘rush’, they stomped always in control and not too concerned about anything. Alfred could usually follow this lesson, but, well, food. 

“Hey, dad,” Alfred greeted as he took his spot.

“Hey, Alfred,” returned his sire, still dressed in her business attire, obviously just having gotten home from work. 

Amelia Jones was a proud alpha only a few inches or so shorter than Alfred, who kept her amber blonde hair, the same shade as Alfred’s, trimmed just above her shoulders. Alfred had particularly managed to take after her more than any of his siblings, even Matthew, the only major differences being her secondary gender and notably paler skin tone. 

“Where’s your sister?” Ms. Jones asked.

“Matthew was just calling her out of her room,” he answered. Technically Alfred had two sisters, but Alfred doubted his sire was talking about the almost-one-year-old omega, Rachel. Much more likely she was referring to the eight-year-old alpha, Maria. 

Amelia nodded to show that she had heard, and just as she did so Maria, followed by Matthew and Mason, walked into the room.

“Hey, dad!” both Maria and Mason shouted while Matthew gave a small nod and headed into the connected kitchen. 

“Mason,” Amelia gave him a stern look, “not so loud,” she admonished. Mason blushed a little and ducked his head. 

“Sorry, dad,” he apologized. 

“Mason,”

“Ya?”

“Go help your mother and brother bring in the plates,” she ordered definitively in her alpha voice. 

“Yes, dad,” Mason shot out as he sort of hopped and sort of fell out of his chair and rushed towards the kitchen.

“How has your day been, Maria?”

“Good,”

“That’s good,” Ms. Jones nodded in approval. 

Matthew walked in from the kitchen with two plates, one in which he slid in front of Alfred and the other which went to Matthew’s empty seat by Alfred’s side. Mason followed reluctantly serving Maria and then himself, and finally came their bearer with her plate and that of her bonded.

“Here you are, honey.” Her mouth smiled as the lowered the plate.

“Wonderful, dear,” Amelia smiled as she leaned up and grabbed her mate’s long hair at the root, using it to bring their mouths together for a kiss. Once she had let go, she ran her hand over the exposed bonding mark on her mate’s neck. Whereas unbonded omegas were required to always keep their necks covered, bonded ones were to make sure their bonding marks were visible at all times. 

After Amelia had let go, Kayaweta strolled to the playpen in the corner, taking out two children, male and female twins about a year old. Both children, though they didn’t yet excrete any pheromones, were known by the family to be omegas.

Alpha and omega pheromones didn’t start to become noticeable until puberty, but it was usually simple to get a fix on their nature. If it was a boy and there were no testicles but was a uterus, he was an omega. If it was a boy with a knot he was an alpha. If he had neither, he was a beta. A girl with a retracted penis was alpha. The only more difficult group were girls that seemed to have matched up parts based on beta standards. They were chemically tested in more comprehensive ways in order to distinguish between beta and omega. Alternately, some families simply waited and let the nature of their daughter in that situation be a surprise. This practice was very much frowned down upon and used scarcely due to the complications that could arise in education and other aspects of life. 

Kayaweta placed the twins into high chairs and gently took her seat next to Amelia.

“Alright, dig in.” Ms. Jones smiled widely. She, Maria, and Alfred surged forward, carving various slices of meat on their plates. Mrs. Williams, Matthew, and Mason slowly- though Mason certainly faster than the others- did the same, favoring rice and salad.

Dinner was a loud affair, but one voice generally dominated. Ms. Jones asked questions or made statements, and whoever the question was aimed toward answered. Most were directed at Alfred and then Maria, some at Mrs. Williams and how her day had gone. A few disapproving glances were thrown at Mason and his hasty shoveling of food. Matthew was, as any grown but unmatted omega should be, all but invisible. All this was characteristic of a typical dinner at the Jones’ house. But today, Ms. Jones actually turned to address her eldest son. 

“Matthew.”

The boy startled, taken completely off guard as his head snapped over to meet his alpha with large eyes. 

“Huh?” It slipped out before he could stop it, and the disapproving glare was no surprise. 

“Sorry,” he whispered shakily, blushing deeply. Ms. Jones continued. 

“Have any alphas taken interest in you lately?”

Matthew couldn’t help that his eyes slipped over to his eldest brother. This was not how this conversation usually went. Usually, his sire would ask Alfred if anyone had taken interest in Matthew. 

“No, sir,” he replied quickly despite his confusion. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, “you’re getting old, Matthew,” Amelia Jones pointed out, “most omegas are pregnant by your age, and we are in no position that makes it difficult should you move out.” She used her fork to gesture to the other omegas at the table. The utensil clanked against her plate when she settled her arm down again. She was exaggerating about pregnancy. It was true, though, that most were bonded or in a committed relationship that was almost sure to lead to a bonding. “You really should find yourself a mate. You and Alfred go to all the neighborhood social mixers, you’ve met plenty of alphas. What’s the problem?” Her eyes narrowed as if she suspected Matthew had been chasing away mates or something.

She wasn’t far off the mark. 

Matthew was old for an unbonded omega, which was strange since, besides a few extra inches of height that some alphas even found attractive, he was a perfect omega. The problem, though, was that he grew up with an identical alpha brother. His eyes slipped to Alfred and they made a nervous sort of eye contact. 

The brothers didn’t speak much, they occupied roles that were too different. In one thing, though, they were in solidarity. A promise made a long time ago before Matthew had gone through his first heat and when Alfred couldn’t tell the difference between himself and his seemingly identical brother. 

Matthew was afraid of being bonded to someone he didn’t love and Alfred found the possibility horrifying. Since they knew Alfred would be his acting alpha most of the time the two brothers made a deal linked by a pinky swear. When an alpha was interested in Matthew, Matthew would be the judge of whether or not he was interested back. If not Alfred would chase the alpha away or, if necessary, make up a reason as to why it wouldn’t work. It was… untraditional. Now that they were older they realized it even bordered on improper. It wasn’t like Mattie was going to be forced into marriage or anything, and to Alfred, it only seemed fair that if an alpha was interested he should get a chance. Yet it was a promise, a pinky swear, and that was sacred ground. They both realized how they had been wrong in making the pact, yet neither ever tried to stop it. Alfred didn’t have the heart to say anything about stopping the idealistic agreement, seeing as he was a bit of an idealist. As for Matthew, well, he had just yet to recognize the right sort of person.

Luckily, the question was apparently rhetorical because Ms. Jones didn’t push the issue any farther. That may have been because she instead decided to stuff a slice of roast beef in her mouth, or, if the look she gave Alfred was any indication, because she planned to continue the topic with the alpha responsible later. 

Dinner continued, though Matthew was significantly more nervous and fidgety than he had been before, and that was quite a feat. Despite eating tranquility, both Matthew and Mrs. Williams finished before the rapidly eating Ms. Jones and Alfred. Matthew plucked on a stray thread from his woolen sleeve as he waited for the two eldest alphas to finish. It was uncharacteristic, he would usually be a mirror image of his bearer, who was looking blankly ahead with her hand folded neatly on the table behind her empty plate. 

“That was wonderful, darlin’,” complemented Ms. Jones as her fork and knife hit her plate with a clatter and her chair screeched back against the floor.

“Thank you, dear,” accepted Mrs. Williams as she stood up herself and picked up her plate and her mate’s. Matthew did the same with his own plate, Alfred’s and then walked around the table to grab Maria’s. He had reached for Mason’s, but stopped when Ms. Jones came out with a harsh:

“Leave it. Mason, pick your plate up, and take one from Matthew,”

Mason turned completely red once again as he sloppily picked up his own plate, one of the pile in Matthew’s arms, and followed his brother and bearer into the kitchen. 

“Well, come on.” Ms. Jones walked out of the kitchen and into the family room. Alfred and Maria followed just as Amelia Jones settled herself into her favorite recliner. 

The sound of clattering dishes followed them from the kitchen where the omegas did the dishes. Ms. Jones flipped on the TV. 

It wasn’t too long before the other family members joined them. Matthew settled himself on the side of the couch Alfred was on opposite Maria, and Mason and his bearer took the empty loveseat as they settled down to watch. 

Things took another turn for the strange, though, when the program was over and Ms. Jones sat up and shut off the TV.

“Darlin’, you should tuck in the little ones, us alphas have to talk,” Ms. Jones requested in a way that wasn’t a request at all. 

Mrs. Williams just nodded and took Mason’s hand, pulling him off the couch with her. Normally Mason would have grumbled about it, but even he could see that his sire was starting to get a bit more strict with him. Matthew stood up and started to leave without prompt. He knew whatever his sire and younger brother were going to discuss was not something he was allowed to worry his pretty little head over. Alfred and Maria stayed where they were. Alfred with his brows drawn together in worry, and Maria with a smug smile as she stealthily stuck her tongue out at Mason as he was forced to leave. Her pride didn’t last long. 

“Maria, you too,”

“What!” she screeched, “but I’m an alpha too!”

“Well, this is older alpha business,”

“But, but, that’s not fair!” she fumed. Matthew had already left and Mason was staring in from the doorway with his own private little smile. Kayaweta was waiting quietly at the door, ready to take Maria at request. 

“Maria, you are still a young alpha, you are not ready to make alpha decisions or be involved in these sort of things. I will seek your opinions when you are older. Go with your bearer,”

“I will not!” she pouted angrily with a red face and while settling herself deeper into the couch with crossed arms. Though Ms. Jones had been smiling lightly with amusement before, it was clear she was no longer amused. 

“Maria, I said go,” the voice carried the strict command of an alpha and Kayaweta flinched. Maria’s resolve seemed to melt as she bit her bottom lip.

“But...” 

“Maria, now.” Once would have been enough for an omega but Maria was all alpha. Two commands from her alpha, though, were more than even she could withstand. 

“Fine.” She slid off the couch and stomped towards her bearer, who placed a hand on Maria’s head once she got there and herded the girl out of the room.

Soon only Alfred, his sire, and the sound of angry little feet on the staircase were left. 

“Alfred, I have some news,” his sire started, “you know, I’ve been getting a lot of promotions at work lately, climbing the corporate ladder and all that,”

Alfred nodded.

“Well, today they decided they want me to manage a branch,”

“Wow, a whole branch? That’s great!” Alfred exclaimed, settling back into the couch from his previously stiff posture when he realized he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. He had been afraid this would be about Matthew’s bordering-on-suspicious lack of an alpha. 

“I agree. The branch is in England.” That was Amelia Jones: as subtle as a bulldozer. 

Matching blue eyes stared at each other, one pair blinking in confusion. 

“England?!” Alfred finally managed to choke out, “since when do they even have a branch in England?!” 

“Since now, and they want me to manage it. They’ve given me a few days to consider the offer. What do you think, Alfred?”

Alfred wanted to immediately protest. He couldn’t leave America for England. He loved his country, he had been considering joining the military out of school. He couldn’t just trade in coffee and football for tea and soccer and prissy accents. Hot prissy accents to be sure, but prissy all the same.

Ms. Jones could see her son’s thoughts written all over his face.

“Alfred, soon you will be of head alpha age. I expect you to make well thought out decisions,”

Alfred took a deep breath as he tried to think through it rationally. What did he think? He didn’t want to move, that was certain, but what about his family? He didn’t think Matthew would care much one way or the other, and Mason could use a fresh start to make a better more omegalike impression on people. It wouldn’t affect the young twins at all, but they wouldn’t remember their country of birth… they would probably develop the prissy accents! 

“Would we ever come back?” he asked.

“I don’t think the family would as a whole,” replied Ms. Jones, “hopefully the job is long term.”

Alfred nodded, having expected as much. Alfred’s family was middle class. At the same time, though, it was ever expanding, as any family with a fertile omega was expected to be. Alfred and Matthew had been quickly followed by Mason, and he even more quickly by Maria, and the largest gap had been between her and the twins. The house was getting a little small for them, and they didn’t have an extra room for the little twins who currently slept in Matthew’s room, which happened to also be the nursery. Mason and Maria roomed together as well, but with Mason approaching puberty and therefore heat age, it wouldn’t be long before he definitely needed his own room or needed to at least move in with Matthew and away from his alpha sister. That would probably put Maria with Alfred, but Matthew, Mason, and the two omega twins couldn’t very well all share a room. They could split it up: Matthew and Mason, the omega twins, Alfred and Maria, but alphas were notoriously bad at sharing small spaces and even omegas tended to get territorial as their heat approached. Alfred’s finger swirled his cowlick and he sighed in disappointment. At this point, he was just trying to justify his unwillingness to move. 

“I think it’s a good idea,” he finally relented.

Ms. Jones smiled widely and laughed, “I think so too. This will be good for us, Alfie, you’ll see. I don’t want to leave the good ol’ U.S. of A. for some brits either, but hey, sometimes you gotta roll with the punches, huh, squirt?” she got up and punched Alfred’s shoulder. Alfred smiled back,

“Ya, I guess you’re right,”

“And who knows, maybe you’ll meet a sweet British omega with a killer accent to settle down with,”

“Dad, you know American omegas are the only ones for me,”

“That’s what I said before I met your bearer in Canada. One glance of that pretty face and I knew she’d be mine. Just keep your eyes open,”

Alfred rolled his eyes as he stood himself up and the two of them sauntered out of the room.

“It’s not going to happen,”

“Whatever you say. Now, to tell your bearer the news,” Ms. Jones announced as she headed towards the bedroom she shared with her mate. Alfred too headed up to bed, emotions, despite his outer calm, rolling inside of him. 

…:::*:::...

Arthur rolled his eyes and debated with himself as he stood outside that room, his foot tapping against the linoleum floor and lips swishing from side to side in consideration. He had gone Friday and that had to count for something, but he hadn’t gone the three days before that. He decided he would take stock first and then decide.

Arthur slipped quietly into the room and took his seat no more than ten seconds before the bell rang. 

The walls of this class were covered in posters: a third of them smiling kittens next to lions and other such animals promoting cooperation and whatnot, another third of toddler level anatomy posters featuring male and female omegas with arrows pointing to none of the important parts, and the remaining ones ‘candid’ photos of prim stereotypical omegas looking happily fulfilled as they leaned against strong stereotypical alphas. The whole room made Arthur want to puke. 

He quickly looked for what had changed in the room, since omegas were such feeble-minded creatures that they had to be taught with props at all times. Sure enough, piled on the long table in the front were cradles and pacifiers and baby bottles and strollers and that was not happening. Arthur sighed loudly as he flopped down and leaned his head on his palm, fingers tapping lips. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, he thought to himself, eyes shifting around as he searched for the other thing he always took stock of when he decided what he was going to do about this class. His eyes glided over an empty desk. Nowhere to be found. The only thing that could make this class anything other than boring and unnecessary was gone. That cinched it. The bell rang.

“Alright class,” said an airy voice as its owner walked to the centre of the room with a completely ditzy smile on his face: Mr. Maxen. The man's long cream skirt that swished around his ankles and matched his equally cream gloves and off-white scarf, the scarf pulled down so that the bonding mark under his left ear was clearly visible. Other than that and his face, there was not a visible inch of skin on him. Cosmetics made that face pale and flawless with big doe eyes and small lips because, as the additive went, “a small mouth makes not much unattractive chatter.” In other words, he was supposed to represent for his students an example of a perfect omega. Luckily for Arthur, this extended to his mind, meaning that, as alphas seemed to prefer, the man was a total ditz, and getting out of his class was as easy as strolling down the halls. 

“Alright, if you would all just sit still and give me a moment to take attendance.” Everyone was sitting still and there was near silence as all the omegas sat primly with their hands folded over the table. All except for Arthur who was still slouching with his hand over his mouth. Any talking was being done in small whispers, punctuated only by polite giggles. 

Kill him now. 

Arthur tuned out as role was called. There was only one person of any significance-- in other words, the one omega of two Arthur could stand breathing the same air as-- in the class, and he hadn’t shown up.

The teacher placed the clipboard back on his desk.

“Alright, today we will start our unit on the delicate complexities of proper rocking and swaddling. If everyone would please stand and orderly retrieve a baby doll, we will begin.” The omegas got up. Arthur mimicked the action, turned on his heel, and left the room. Some days he stayed, more often he didn’t. 

Arthur knew he was in a precarious position, being that he actually wished to graduate with honours. Skipping a class, no matter how useless, was dangerous. Showing up and then leaving meant no one was any wiser. His teacher either never noticed that Arthur disappeared sometime between attendance and the lesson, or didn’t bother to report it. Artur didn’t much care either way as long as he didn’t have to concern himself over it and he didn’t have to stay in a class dedicated to moulding him into someone he didn't want to be. Instead, he headed to one of the places where the other boy who had skipped, a good friend of Arthur’s, was sure to be.

His path took him to the back of the school building. It was a narrow space sandwiched by the school itself and a tall brick wall. Sure enough, right past the ever-present boxes sagging with the weight of long accumulated moisture and smelling faintly of mould, one of the people Arthur respected most sat slouched against the ground smoking something (Arthur didn’t know what, it was always something different).

The boy looked up as Arthur approached, previously tensed muscles easily relaxing.

“Oh, it’s only you, punk bastardo. I thought it was someone important,” the boy scoffed. 

“You mean someone who could have you expelled?” Arthur smirked.

“Pft, no one is expelling me,” he chuckled darkly in a thick Mediterranean accent, “my grandfather and his large donations practically own this place. They wouldn’t let me in otherwise.”

Arthur lowered himself to the ground and sat crisscross against the wall next to a pair of tailored dark jeans, a tight dark t-shirt, and shoes that probably cost more than Arthur’s family made in a month.

“Nice to see you as well, Romano.” He rolled his eyes. Well, at least, Romano was what the Italian boy was called by anyone who appreciated their reproductive systems where they were. His legal name was Lovino, as he was reminded every time attendance was called, but he prefered Romano. Something about the translation.

Romano scoffed and rolled his eyes, lifting his arm and taking another smoke, unoccupied hand rubbing furiously and compulsively against his upper leg.

“So what bullshit am I supposed to be learning right now?” It was Arthur’s turn to scoff.

“More poppets,”

“Ugh,” Romano groaned, “that bitch has been sexed up by that douche alpha of his so hard his brains have been fucked out. What is it, rocking again?”

“Yes, I believe that and swaddling,”

“Fucking useless crapola. There’s only so much to be said about holding... eh, how do you say, bambinos...?” Romano scrambled for the word for a moment, but snapped with pride before Arthur could fill in the blank, “babies! There’s only so much to be said about holding babies. Just don’t drop the tiny bastard on its head. What more is there to it that he thinks he has to keep teaching it to us?”

Arthur found listening to Romano talk fascinating. Arthur had grown up with alpha brothers, he knew a curse here and there. The only alpha in Romano’s life as far as Arthur knew was his grandfather, yet he always had something colourful to say. In addition, if it weren’t for his neckband, which was sagged so far down that it pooled against his collarbone and rendered itself pretty much moot, it would be impossible to tell that Romano was an omega by look or smell. He laid back against the wall as if he owned it: one foot stretched out and the other angled far from it and bent taking up as much room as he could, his shoulders slumped in a way that said ‘don’t you dare touch me’ more than it could be interpreted as any sort of submissive gesture. 

Short of, Arthur assumed, sniffing his neck, his scent was pretty much completely overridden by the stench of smoke, a combination of nicotine and various chemical smells that might have been medications but also might have been less acceptable drugs, but that was the point. Romano had told him as much. Both omegas basically had the life goal of “sticking a middle finger up the ass of society” as Romano had once so eloquently put it. They just did so in different ways. Arthur was intelligent, strong-willed, and controlling. Romano was clever, loud-mouthed, and often offensively apathetic. To Arthur, it was a brush of fresh air. There were only about two omega’s Arthur could sympathize with, much less relate to, and maybe in different circumstances, Romano wouldn’t be one of them. For now, though, in this world, he certainly was. 

“So, have you seen my fratello today?” Romano asked, seemingly offhandedly, though Arthur could see something of concern in the set of his lips. It used to take Arthur a while to remember the meaning of ‘fratello’, it was the one English words both brothers seemed unwilling to use in reference to each other.

“Um,” Arthur searched his memories, “Yes, I passed him by in the hall after first period,” he had only noticed the boy because he looked so much like Romano that Arthur had to take a second look to make sure. Of course, the large smile on his face and snuggly fitted neckband quickly assured him that it wasn’t. 

Feliciano was a… nice person, but that wasn’t a trait Arthur admired much in omegas. To be honest, Arthur wasn’t too fond of him. Too much acceptance and subservience in the small russet-haired boy for Arthur to come anywhere close to respecting him.

“Who was he with?” Romano asked, purposely not making eye contact. 

Arthur had a hard time telling exactly how Romano felt about Feliciano. They certainly weren’t anything alike, and Romano always said his name with a bit of contempt. Arthur had always gotten the sense that Romano was somewhat envious of Feliciano, which Arthur supposed could be understandable-- ignorance was bliss after all. However, moments like these when Romano tried so hard not to show concern that was obviously there made Arthur wonder how much of it all was an act. It made him think maybe there was a side to Feliciano that Arthur had never really encountered. 

“I don’t particularly recall,” Arthur answered “... a blond. I believe he was following a blond. Didn’t get close enough to smell, but big stature, no neck band… alpha? Oh!” he suddenly realised what was happening, “is he…”

“Not if I can fucking help it!” Lovino growled, smashing his hand- and his smoke- roughly onto the ground. He then looked down at the ruined drag and groaned. “He’s been following this potato-bastard around for a while. He’s a natural flirt, though he tries not to do it because it isn’t ‘proper’, but he’s been oddly serious lately. I think he actually wants the bastard to mate him,” 

Although not at all a proper way to address a bonding, Arthur realised ‘mate’ might have been the least vulgar way Romano had ever addressed the process. Things must be serious.

“Will the alpha go for him?”

“Pft, why wouldn’t he?” Romano casually waved an arm in front of him, “besides being a chatterbox, Feli is a perfect little omega. How could anyone not love him?”

“Ha, yes, ‘love’,” Arthur scoffed, “I’m sure that’s what he would want Feli for, what all alphas want an omega for, to ‘love’.” Normally Romano would laugh, but he must've truly cared about this issue because his hands formed knuckles against the ground. 

“I swear, if he does anything to Feli!” Arthur thought back as hard as he could to the brief look he got of the alpha.

“What will you do? He’s a blond hulk, at least two heads taller than either of us. And he’s an alpha, let’s not forget. We’re just little omegas, he can do what he wants to your brother, and if what you say about the flirting is true, everyone will say it was his fault for ‘inviting’ it,” Arthur sang in a bitter mocking tone.

“Ugh!” Romano banged his head back against the wall so hard it made Arthur flinch, but the Italian boy didn't even seem to notice. “Damn it! I’ll fucking find a way, see how many shits I give, even if I have to pry Feli from his cold dead hands. I am never going to let an alpha fuck me into a nest, so it’s not like I have much of a future life to give up. What job could an unmated omega get? I’d do it, you know, I really would.” There was a firm sort of gleam in Romano’s otherwise uncertain hazel eyes and Arthur didn’t doubt his words. Maybe he should have been more concerned about it but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’ll root for you,” he answered instead, “What year is he in anyway? He’s… well defined,”

“Two beneath ours, if you’ll believe it. I tried to tell Feli he was too young for him, being a level below him and all, but Feli said he thought it was ‘cute,’”

“It’s abnormal,” Arthur agreed, “but not so much as to make it unfeasible, especially when the alpha looks like that,”

“I know that, damn it!” Romano snapped.

“I can keep an ear to the ground about him,” Arthur offered, “see if I can’t dig up any dirt on him you can use to keep him away from your brother.

“Whatever,” Romano huffed, and Arthur knew that was his version of thank you.

They descended into silence as Romano shuffled the ashes left on the ground and Arthur closed his eyes and breathed in the smoky air. It was a while later that Romano broke the silence. Arthur knew he was more uncomfortable with the lack of noise than he let on.

“So, your bastard brothers done anything else shitty recently?” Romano asked. Arthur huffed. 

“Would you like a list? Though, honestly, there is really not much they can do. Most of them are gone, and I just avoid Patrick. Though Allistor, his mate, and Dylan are coming over for mum's birthday. That should be... fun,”

“At least you can avoid the alpha that lives with you. I wish I could keep Nonno, my grandfather that is, from trying to dominate every part of my life. He has a sixth sense for improper behaviour, you know. Always catches me when I try to sneak out,”

“Dreadful,” Arthur sympathised. 

The faint sound of a bell carried out to them from the other side of the concrete wall they leaned on. Arthur shuffled himself up from the ground and did a small stretch.

“Last period, you joining me?” he questioned. 

“It’s about fucking time, ya, I’ll go to the last one, why the fuck not? It’s just dumb shit English,”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he dismissed the, for once unintentional, indirect insult. Romano slowly crunched his way off the ground in a way that suggested he hadn’t gotten up in hours. Arthur couldn’t help but cringe when his knees and back cracked loudly in the silence, but Romano didn’t even try to stretch out the stiffness. Instead, he straightened out his collar and wiped his pants, but didn’t even touch his sagging neckband. It made him uncomfortable, but Arthur didn’t say anything. 

The pair headed inside

…:::*:::...

As Arthur made his way out of the front doors with the flow of students after the final bell, a large presence appeared at his side.

“Go away,” he demanded, eyes rolling but not actually feeling at all threatened. For once he had no reason to be.

“Ya, why should I?”

“Because I’ll kick you where it hurts if you don’t.” There was a second of silence.

The presence moved away,

“So you ready to go?”

“I hardly need you to escort me,”

The alpha shook his head of wavy orange hair, exasperated, and eyes the same shade as Arthur’s rolled in their sockets, framed by two monstrously thick orange eyebrows.

“Alright, fine, whatever. It’s not like I want to be here. I am your acting alpha though, you know. You kinda have to do what I say,”

Arthur scoffed, “Shove off, Patrick,”

“Right, whatever.” Patrick, Arthur’s elder brother by less than a year, turned to talk with a group of his friends that had caught up with him. He made casual conversation as Arthur made his way to the bus stop with the group following. Most of Patrick’s friends ended up dispersing, but a few of them boarded the bus with him and Arthur. Arthur ignored the fact that few alphas ‘flirted’ at him, and any that did try were discouraged by a half-hearted growl that he pretended not to hear. 

Arthur had heard omega’s in those sappy romantic movies and what not call it ‘sweet’ how their alphas protected them. Arthur called it possessive. They just didn’t want someone else touching their stuff. 

They got off at their stop and Arthur strode home in such a way that made it difficult to ascertain if the alpha walking behind him was his or just walking within arms reach. However, the similar familial scents made the relationship clear, especially when they both turned the eerie penetrating power of their matching eyes on any particularly unruly alpha. 

When they reached their home a few minutes later, Arthur was a few metres in front of Patrick and attempted to slam the door in his brother’s face. Unfortunately, Patrick was used to Arthur’s temperament and was expecting it. He easily caught it and walked inside himself. He kicked his shoes off in the foyer while Arthur wiped his on the mat and picked them up to take to his room.

“Da’ we’re home,” Patrick shouted in a rather cliched fashion that had Arthur rolling his eyes.

“There’s a snack in the kitchen,” George Kirkland shouted back. Their father worked an odd hour job with not many hours to speak of as a realtor, while their mum worked longer shifts as a fairly successful architect. 

The boys went in search of the promised food. Apparently ‘there are snacks in the kitchen’ translated to ‘the scones from this morning are still in the kitchen’. Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed himself some biscuits from the cabinet instead. 

“Normally I’d say having only a stack of biscuits will make you fat, but you’re such a sack of bones maybe a little chubby roundness would make your looks moderately tolerable, child birthing hips and all that,” Patrick commented. 

“Well, the plump doesn’t seem to be doing so for you,” Arthur retorted as he walked away to escape the alpha scent that was starting to burn his nostrils. Omegas were generally supposed to find the scent of an alpha alluring, and Arthur hated to admit that during his pre-heats he had fallen into that biological trap. However, outside if that time, and particularly with family, alpha scents were a whole different world. The less time he spent around Patrick the better. 

In his room, which he thankfully no longer had to share with Patrick now that Dylan had moved out, Arthur sat back on his bed and took a deep breath. 

It was silent for a moment.

Then he clawed savagely at his neck, clawing and pulling at string and yarn and popping the grey buttons on the back. He had made this one himself, he had thought maybe if it was of his own hand it would feel less like a collar. He had been wrong.

Once he had destroyed the band as best he could, he gathered the remains and dropped it into the rubbish bin he kept next to his bed. It landed on top of a pile of four others, which he stared at solemnly for a few seconds before turning away. Opening his wardrobe drawer he retrieved a deep blue neckband, the type of store bought one made of an elastic cottony material that one put on and removed simply by stretching it over one’s head. He placed it smoothly on his bedside table for tomorrow. 

Moving over to his satchel, Arthur removed his books and notebooks, placing them neatly on the desk in his room. Sitting down he sharpened a pencil and began his homework.


	4. The Way

Moving day was a lot less hectic than it could have been. Or, rather, a lot less hectic than it would have been had Mrs. Williams and Matthew not been present. 

The moving had been scheduled for a few weeks after Ms. Jones and Alfred had their talk. Just a few days after hearing the news, Mrs. Williams had all of her own and Maria's items that weren’t of immediate need packed, and everything that wasn’t going with them sold or thrown away. Matthew, following her example, did the same as well as having Mason do it and subtly encouraging Alfred to jump on the bandwagon- though the shortsighted alpha didn’t.

Therefore, by the week before moving day, Mrs. Williams, Matthew, Maria, and Mason were all essentially packed. Two days before moving, Matthew gave up and packed Alfred’s things too- albeit in the most impractical, unsuitable, and plain annoying way he possibly could think to do it.

The shipping truck came the evening before they had to catch their flight, and the only one left scrambling was Ms. Jones. And since the alpha obviously couldn’t be mad at herself for being ill-prepared and everyone was free to help her pack, there were really no serious problems. 

When the morning of the flight came, Alfred didn’t know how to feel. He was saying goodbye to his home country for an indefinite amount of time. He was saying goodbye to everything he knew and all of his many friends. No hot British omega was going to make up for that. It’d be too much of a hassle to bond with one anyway. They’d probably have to move between there and the US to satisfy his or her (probably his, if Alfred was being honest) family, and Alfred was not willing to make that compromise. The whole thing wasn’t fair. At least it came with a plane ride. Alfred loved to fly.

Mrs.Williams had pre-printed their boarding passes, and all their luggage were small carry-ons with basic necessities as everything else was shipped. The biggest bits of excitement were when Maria was flagged by security for a juice box, Mason made friends with a sniffer dog despite the wishes of everyone else involved, and that they initially headed the wrong way for their gate. The juice was thrown away, Mason was dragged off with apologies to security personnel, and they quickly realized they should be aiming for E10, not F10, and easily backtracked. 

It was six in the morning, but there was a McDonald’s in the airport and Alfred had an egg McMuffin; in addition he was wearing a sweatsuit and had one of those super cool neck pillows- his with the American flag printed all over it- and was, therefore, able to catch a few zzz’s while they waited for the flight to board, so it was all good. 

Mattie sat down next to him with the twins to make sure none of his sleeping brother’s stuff was stolen, while Ms. Jones scanned the magazine racks and Mrs. Williams walked Mason and Maria- both of whom had never been flying- around to watch the planes going in and out through the floor to ceiling airport windows. 

Take-off was smooth and Alfred was well entertained during the seven-hour flight by wide blue skies, a perpetually orange horizon, and the puffy white and grey clouds that hovered below them. When it came time to eat he was well satisfied with the airplane lunch the flight attendants handed out. Though other people complained, he had never found anything wrong with airplane food. He found it fascinating. The only problem was the meager amount, but he bolstered it with a hamburger Matthew had thought to buy him at the McDonalds before they left. Matthew himself would only poke suspiciously at the greyish food in the black plastic tray, which is why he had thought to buy them a take on lunch. 

To top it all off, the blond omega steward that bent over to place his meal on the tray table was, frankly, hot. Likely in his thirties, but hot. 

At landing time a young beta started tearing up due to the turbulence, but that turned out to be the most drama-packed bit of the flight.

All in all, the whole thing was a rather pleasant experience even though he couldn’t feel his knees by the end of it from keeping them bent so close to his body. 

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Heathrow International Airport. The local time is 4:45 pm, Temperature 23 degrees Celsius or... 73 degrees Fahrenheit. Please stay seated until the plane has come to a complete stop and be careful when opening the overhead compartments as items may have shifted during landing. Thank you for flying American Airlines, and we hope to see you again soon,”

A not too pleasant shiver went down Alfred’s spine. He wondered how long he would have to wait for someone to once again tell him the temperature in Fahrenheit. 

“Alright everyone, let’s get to it.” Ms. Jones and Alfred were both rolling two pieces of luggage behind themselves down the airport hallways since Mrs. Williams was pushing the double stroller that held Rachel and Samuel, and Matthew had Mason’s hand on one side and Maria’s on the other. 

By the time they exited the building Alfred was already starting to feel uncomfortable as the barrage of accents so different from his own swept around him and a bout of homesickness was churning in his stomach. 

Come on Alfie, you’ve only been away eight hours, he tried to motivate himself, but his smile was only half as bright as it usually was. If he would have been paying attention he would have realized Matthew’s didn’t look much better. 

The family was directed to a taxi by an overworked airport attendant and Ms. Jones gave the driver their new address as Alfred helped Mrs. Williams and Matthew set up the twins’ car seats. There was a brief delay as Maria complained about having to sit on her bearer’s lap for the trip, but her sire quickly put her in her place and they were off. 

The house, which had been provided by Ms. Jones’ company as part of the job offer, was only about forty miles away but took nearly two hours to get to due to rush hour traffic. Alfred was boxed in by Rachel on one side and the car door on the other, neither of whom made great conversation, so he really had nothing to do but watch the cramped streets lined with cramped buildings go by. He was loath to admit that after they got out of the city center, there were many similarities between what he had seen so far of England and his home, but that made sense considering he had lived in New England. Still, Maine just seemed so much more spacious in comparison to the small London streets. And although many buildings were actually quite modern, which should have appealed to Alfred’s love of progress, it just made him more aware that he was not, in fact, in Maine. 

Their progress sped up considerably once they made it out of the backlogged city streets altogether, and Alfred watched as the hotels, businesses, and shops were replaced with family homes. 

“That was some serious crowding,” Ms. Jones commented to the driver as they cleared the traffic.

“Ya,” she answered, “London is an ever-expanding city and he just wasn’t built for a population of this size. The pattern of the streets makes certain that the more cars on the road, the slower things will get. It’s why there are such high taxes on cars and gasoline, and why it’s so expensive to get a license,” 

Alfred grumbled quietly to himself. He was well aware of the taxes and expenses, it was why they had had to leave his poor baby. It had been a huge argument that had ended with a broken door frame, a crying bearer, and his sire grounding him until moving day, but, of course, his alpha had won and Alfred was left heartbroken and Mustang-less. 

Finally, they arrived at the house. The driver helped them remove their bags from the trunk, and Ms. Jones paid and tipped her as the rest of the family dragged in their stuff.

Alfred wheeled his and Matthew’s suitcase into the driveway and then just stopped and looked up at the house for a moment. Despite the style similarities he had noticed between his home and England on the car ride, this house was nothing like the house he had grown up in. His house had been a simple shingle style with a tin roof. Covered in pale almost-yellow- shingles and surrounded by acres of abandoned land, it had made him feel free.

This house was something of a colonial style- well, it would have been in America, he had no idea what to call it here. Instead of shingles, it had a large dull gray brick facade with white trim, lots of windows in the front, and a tiled roof. The part that made Alfred’s heart pang, though, was what was on either side of the house, fit snugly right against the corners of the brick: more houses.

There was no land on the sides, only a measly garden space in the front, and he didn’t hold out much for the backyard. Whereas in many eyes his home could not compete in pure aesthetic beauty, he had merely to go outside to feel unchained. Here he would be crammed in with nowhere to go. 

He stomped up the steps leading to the front door a bit heavier than he needed to. 

The inside of the house was empty, seeing as their furniture wouldn’t arrive for another hour, but the style of its walls and floor clearly reflected its outside appearance. Alfred shoved the suitcases to the side and held the door open for his bearer and Matthew and then helped them navigate the stroller up the steps.

“Oh, it’s very nice,” their bearer decided. Matthew wrinkled his nose, but smiled and nodded politely. Though Alfred never thought to ask what his real opinion was. 

Their sire sauntered through the door. 

“Welcome home, familia,” she laughed. “Come on, let me give you the grand tour. This right here is the living room.” She led them through an arch, “kitchen, and it opens up here to the dining room. On the first floor, that door right there,” she pointed to a double door, “is our room, and for now, the door right next to it will belong to the twins… eh, the little twins,” she specified. “Upstairs there are four bedrooms, which means you all get your own! Come on.” They walked up the old looking staircase while Mrs. Williams stayed downstairs with the babies. 

“I want this room,” Maria announced as soon as they got to the top and saw the first door. 

“Sorry, dear,” Ms. Jones announced, “but this room is actually for Mason.”

“What? Why?” Maria immediately whined. 

“Omega room.” 

“On the second floor?” Alfred asked in puzzlement.

“British thing,” Mrs. Jones explained. “Turns out when industrialization came along in Britain, omega rooms further up became status symbols. When the US was colonized there wasn't really the wealth for taller houses. So we dug out instead. It got passed on there, but here most omega rooms are still on the second, or even third, floor instead of the first,” she shrugged. She opened the door to the room in question and walked in a few paces. 

In the empty room, something immediately noticeable was the three shallow steps that seemingly lead into the wall. Amelia Jones went over and pushed on said wall, causing it to open up for her in a wide, but short, doorway. 

“Come look, Matthew, Mason.” She waved them over. “I know it’s a bit different than what you’re used to, going up instead of down, but overall I think it’s a good nesting space. And if the lack of light makes you uncomfortable, we can put some sort of tinted lamp or lightbulb.”

Alfred snuck a peek and saw that the small room was about the equivalent of a normal nesting space back home, taking up the area of a twin sized bed. The difference was, as his sire had alluded to, the slanted heavily tinted sunroof that covered less than half the ceiling of the area. In his experience, nests were covered either entirely by a tinted sunroof or by lots of tinted electric lighting. This one, though, certainly gave the impression of a cave with only a single entrance. He supposed it was a cultural preference.

“All right, come on now.” She led them out of the room and onto the next one across the hall.

“The last one was Mason’s, it having the smaller nesting area. Maria, this will be your room.”

Maria, who was still pouting at not having got her way, just huffed. 

It was a normal room about the same size as the last, though with the added space of the nesting area exposed it looked a good bit larger. 

A few paces down, at the end of the hallway were two more rooms across from each other. 

“The one on the left is Alfred’s, and the one on the right Matthew’s. Look here, dear.”

She waved Matthew forward while opening the door to the room she had designated as his. The room was very large, bigger than the two others they had seen. Like Mason’s, there were steps leading up to a wall. However, this one was curved out and when Ms. Jones opened it he could see that the space was shaped like a baseball field, the corner aligning with where the home plate would be and the curved edge outlining the outfield. It had the same small sunroof for natural light, but the entire space was big compared to Masons, probably a little less than the surface area of a queen-sized bed. 

“It’s very large,” Matthew commented. 

“Ya, this is actually the master bedroom of the house, but with the twins, we thought it was best to leave it to you for now. Your bearer would be more comfortable on the lower level, she’ll need it less than you will, and you’ll be out of the house before Alfred and his future mate might need the space anyway,” Ms. Jones casually waved off as she turned back out of the room. 

Matthew hugged himself and Alfred bit his lip.

“Mattie,” he said quietly as he heard the other three family members head downstairs again. “Maybe it’s time you…”

Matthew’s head snapped up to look at Alfred.

“We just got here! You can’t… not yet, Al. Please, I’m not ready.” His voice was quiet as always, but stern. 

“Not ready? You’re eighteen,”

“Well, where’s your mate? We’re the same age you know,”

“Ya, but I’m an alpha. I have school to concentrate on.”

Matthew’s soft lavender eyes narrowed at him and his hands went down to his hips. 

“So you’re not ready for a mate, yet I must be because I’m not allowed to be as smart as you?”

“What? What are you even talking about?” Alfred blinked at him. Matthew looked sharply at him for a moment more before sighing and bringing his arms back up around himself.

“Nevermind, you wouldn’t-- Look, I’m sorry to put you in this situation. But please, just a while longer. You don’t want me to end up like Janice, do you?”

Janice had been the fifteen-year-old omega who lived the next house over back home. Her alpha worked for most of the day and she was left home alone. She spent her time sitting quietly on the back porch. Matthew told Alfred that she had gone into heat while visiting a friend’s house, and her mate, who was said friend’s sister home from college, had bonded with her during it. When they left for England she was a few months pregnant. Just looking at her always made Alfred feel… something bad. 

“Bro, what are the chances? Everyone knows you should try to get pre-heat consent, and it’s not like they didn’t bond or something.” Matthew looked away. “This is different. I’m just saying we should let an alpha try to court you,”

“Just let me get used to this place. Please, Alfie,” Mattie looked up at him again and his scent was bitterly screaming hurt protect hurt distress and Alfred would so not be a hero if he ignored a scent like that.

“Alright. If you need anyone chased away your big alpha brother is here for ya,”

“You’re younger than me… and shorter,” Matthew smiled. Alfred scowled playfully. 

“Am not. Shows me to be nice.”

Matthew shook his head fondly and headed towards the door.

“Come on, The movers should be here soon,”

“Sure thing,”

They headed down and collected their luggage and helped each other hang up their respective clothes, then did the same for their bearer. When the movers got there Matthew helped Mrs. Williams take the kids out for a walk while Ms. Jones and Alfred directed things and helped with some of the heavier furniture.

Four hours later things were roughly where they needed to be and the younger kids were all asleep after a long day. Alfred and Matthew were just about to head upstairs as well after hanging the last painting when their sire’s voice called to them. 

“Alfred, Matthew, please come here. Your bearer and I need to speak with you two for a moment,” Ms. Jones called, uncharacteristically serious. Alfred and Matthew shared a worried look, both on edge after their earlier conversation. Alfred shrugged and they smiled nervously at each other before walking into the kitchen. “Sit down,” Ms. Jones ordered while signaling to two of the new barstools pushed against one side of the kitchen island.

Their bearer was already sitting in one of the stools opposite, making it clear that the island was about to function as somewhat of a meeting table. The two boys did as they were told, Matthew more swiftly than Alfred, and their sire copied the movement. 

“There’s something very important we have to discuss with you two,” she announced. Alfred resisted the urge to shoot a nervous glance at Matthew, worried their pact had been uncovered but realizing that that would look a bit too suspicious. His sire’s face wasn’t helping matters though and Alfred noted with a bit of fright that she hadn’t even looked this serious when consulting him about moving. 

“Did… did we do something wrong?” Matthew bravely hazarded, his voice nearly a whimper. 

“Oh, no no, nothing like that, honey,” Kayaweta quickly assured, placing a comforting hand over Matthew’s larger one from across the countertop. 

“It’s about your new school,” Ms. Jones answered the unspoken question in the tilt of Matthew’s head. “We have some news. Now, I’ve done everything I could to try to avoid it, but it’s the only public school-- that is to say government-run school-- in the area. I was going to try to enroll Matthew in a private academy instead or maybe pull him out of school altogether, but they're expensive and your bearer convinced me to keep you where we’re zoned. She thinks this could work out to be a good thing,”

“Geez, this all sounds really intense. What exactly is wrong with the school?” Alfred prompted, much more relaxed now that he realized he wasn't about to be torn a new one for his stupid childhood promise. Amelia sighed. 

“It’s coeducational,” she finally admitted. Matthew blinked twice in wide-eyed astonishment.

“Coeducational,” Alfred repeated, “as in alphas and omegas learn… together?” he questioned in disbelief. 

“Yes, unfortunately. It’s a strange system, but from what I’ve heard schools like this have started popping up all over the US and Europe. Sometimes I really don’t know what society is coming to.” Ms. Jones’ shook her head. Matthew shrunk in his seat. 

“You’re seriously going to send Mattie there?! How in the world can that work out to be ‘a good thing’?” Alfred demanded angrily. 

“Considering Matthew’s age, it may be the only thing left!” Ms. Jones’ spat back, immediately rising defensively to any challenge in Alfred’s tone or words. The younger alpha quickly looked away and settled back into his seat, properly chastised. “Your bearer has pointed out to me that at this point Matthew clearly needs more exposure to alphas than he gets at community socials if he hopes of catching one’s eye, and this school will be a relatively safe way to do so,” she resumed speaking in her normal tone, this time to both of them. Matthew blushed red. 

“I know this must seem strange, but it’s for the best, you’ll see,” Mrs. Williams promised, staring straight at Matthew. 

“We do have to set down a few expectations, though. Matthew,” Ms. Jones focussed all her attention on the older twin, “we’ve done all we can to raise you into a proper young omega, and you’ve grown well. I don’t expect that to change because of this. I don’t know what kind of backward influences you’ll be exposed to at this school, and I don’t want to see any misguided omegas lead you astray. Set an example. You are a fine omega and I want you to act like it at all times despite what anyone else may be doing. Do I make myself clear?”

Matthew nodded weakly as he averted his eyes downwards from their sire’s piercing stare. 

“I need a verbal response, Matthew. I said, do I make myself clear?” she repeated sternly.

“Y-yes, sir,” Matthew squeaked. Amelia nodded in satisfaction and then turned to Alfred, all traces of warmness gone. 

“Alfred. During school hours you are your brother’s alpha. He’s just an omega, he needs your help to make good decisions. You are in charge of him. You know where he is every second of the day. You are with him whenever you can be and you make sure he’s safe and untouched. If anything even mildly exciting happens to Matthew at this school I am holding you personally responsible. Do I make myself abundantly clear?” his sire growled.

Alfred gulped. 

“Y-yes, sir,” he would deny the stutter to the day he died. Though, even through his nerves he couldn’t help but think of how odd it was that Matthew was holding so tight to his seat and that his lip was trembling. 

“Good. You two may go,” she finally decided. The twins couldn’t have gotten out of their seats fast enough.

…:::*:::...

“Just pass it to me!” Arthur demanded, pushing his seat back and standing in preparation to make the demand again and maybe throw himself across the table to accomplish it. His wanker of a brother chuckled and held the basket close to him as he slowly buttered a single loaf.

“No patience, Artie,”

“Patrick, pass your brother the bread. Arthur, no yelling at the table,” Rose Kirkland ordered as she took a bite of her salad. 

“And don’t call me ‘Artie’,” Arthur added. 

“Why not, Artie? Does it bother you, Artie?”

“Honestly, Patrick. Can’t you at least try to be nice to your brother for your mother’s sake?” George Kirkland cut in, sighing wearily. 

“I’m just joking, right, Arthur?”

Dylan, who was seated next to Patrick, rolled his blue eyes. There was a reason he was the only brother Arthur could really stand. He was a beta, which meant he was at the very least less full of himself than Arthur’s other two alpha siblings. He was also quieter and less likely to make a crude joke about Arthur now being an ‘adult’ and needing to watch his liquor. 

“Honestly, Patrick. Some alpha you’re being.” To Arthur’s surprise, it was Alistair who spoke up from his spot next to his mate, Emma. While doing so, he passed Arthur a plate of chicken even though Arthur had been after the bread. 

Patrick, who had been smirking casually, frowned and moved the food on his plate around with his fork. 

“Whatever,”

“So, Dylan, how is school going?” Emma asked politely. She did everything politely, it made Arthur feel sick and hate his brother even more. Arthur had a vague recollection of Alistair taking care of him and telling him to always fight back when he had been very very small. It was nice to know it had all been talk and that he was like any other alpha, after nothing but a warm body. 

“Good,” Dylan answered briefly, allowing the table to lapse into one of those sudden awkward silences. However, Arthur’s mother soon reanimated the conversation by asking about football, which was a topic they all, outside of Patrick and Emma apparently, had avid opinions on. They finished dinner in this manner and Arthur was surprised to realise the night hadn’t been truly awful. He had even helped cook, and although the vegetables were a little more… charred than they should have been, no one complained… or mentioned that he cooked, which always made him feel like the exact kind of omega he would never want to be.

It was only when he went to head up to his room that he overheard his name coming from their small home office. Arthur paused on the steps and then quietly backed down them, shuffling himself against the door.

“...unhealthy behaviour.” That was the voice of Alistair, who Arthur had thought had already retreated to the guest room with his mate. 

“I don’t understand, do you think he’s sick? He’s not acting any differently than normal.” And that was his mother's voice, worried but with an undercurrent of offended steel that Arthur greatly appreciated. 

“That’s part of the problem, but it’s not just that. It’s his scent, it’s off,”

“Well, he doesn’t smell much different either.” This time it was his father who replied, sounding worried and confused. 

“It’s probably undetectable to you two, as betas, but I promise you alphas are picking up on it and Patrick’s been a piss-poor one for not saying anything sooner. His scent is… warped. He smells a bit sick and I don’t think he’s getting enough of the right foods to eat, more protein is probably a good idea but it’s more than that. He smells…” Alistair paused, obviously searching for the right description, “pregnant,” he finally settled on, much to Arthur’s intense surprise. He was certainly not pregnant, not unless his name had become Mary while he wasn’t paying attention. He was so startled by the insinuation that he nearly lost his footing outside the door and only regained his composure in time to hear the startled sounds from inside be overridden by Alistair’s further explanation. 

“--not pregnant! I only meant his scent is giving off the same messages as that of a pregnant omega. His scent is screaming ‘stay away from me’ and ‘unavailable’ to every potential partner he passes.”

“So he’s solitary. It’s not a flaw,” his mother argued.

“Being solitary doesn’t change your scent like that. It’s the sign of a major hormonal imbalance that could come in part from his poor nutrition but also from high stress… or infertility,”

Arthur couldn’t help that his hand came up to press lightly against his lower stomach as if he really were pregnant. He hated alphas, he did, but at the same time… a pup of his own… It made him feel clichéd and weak, but that was something he had secretly always thought he might want… infertility… Wouldn’t that be the clincher, if he really was as broken as people assumed him to be? An omega incapable of producing children… It shouldn’t bother him, he was more than just a womb, he couldn’t help thinking that it wouldn’t bother his two omega friends in the least, but at the same time, he still felt… empty. 

He clenched his fist, bunching up the material of his jumper, before forcing himself to tune back into the conversation that had gone on without his notice. 

“--tests instead?” his mother was finishing up a question, one that Arthur presumed involved having him taken to a doctor or specialists of some sort. 

“I told you, it’s not certain and there’s no reason to get him worked up over nothing. Although, when was the last time he saw a… um, you know, a gynecologist,” he whispered the last word as if it was going to summon the devil. Arthur felt himself going red. 

“Um…” Arthur knew the hesitancy was due to the fact that Rose Kirkland couldn’t remember the last time. Arthur had gone once after his first heat at fourteen, and refused to go again after being subjected to talk of bonding and how many pregnancies he planned on having. As a beta woman from a beta family with beta friends, Rose had probably forgotten that her son needed to see a gynecologist at all.

“Then you should probably make an appointment for... that, but overall it’s better to focus on calming him and getting his diet on track,” Alistair continued, glad to rush over the topic. 

“But you said this is best accomplished with an alpha on hand and Patrick’s not exactly willing to be cooperative…” his father reasoned. 

“Ya, and this fits in what I’ve been wanting to tell you even before all this started… you know the house down the block that has been vacant for a while now?” A pause, presumably where someone nodded, “Me and Emma have bought it. We’re moving back here,”

“Oh, Alistair, that’s wonderful news!”

“Ya well, we thought it would be good to be closer to family and seeing Arthur today really convinced me. He’s sick and he’s never going to attract a decent mate acting like he does.”

“Now there’s nothing wrong with the way Arthur acts.” Mrs. Kirkland was back on the defensive. 

“He demanded something of an alpha, and the look in his eye certainly made it seem he was willing to get physical over it,” Alistair reminded, referencing the incident with the bread over dinner. 

“So maybe he was overreacting, but Arthur’s assertive, it’s not a character flaw. He knows what he wants,”

“Ma, the kid has no idea what he wants. What he should have been reaching for was the meat, not the carbs. Either way, he acts too much like an alpha himself and that behaviour, especially joined with his scent, is not going to earn him a mate. He’s already close to becoming a bit of an old maid, how long can this go on? Does he even go to any of the socials?”

“Listen here, mister, if you’re telling me that you think I should tell my son to change just so he can get himself a high and mighty alpha who’ll treat him like a possession, you’ve got another thing coming.” Arthur could just imagine her eyebrows scrunched up with anger as she stood with her hands on her hips. He imagined Alistair waving his hands in front of him as if for defence. Arthur himself felt like walking in there to knock his brother in the jaw. Who cared if he ‘got himself an alpha’? Certainly not him. Alistair had no right to walk in and assume Arthur wanted to be bound and even less to suddenly announce that he was re-taking the role of Arthur’s alpha after having been gone for nearly ten years. 

“I know what you’re saying, I do. And I get that you want Arthur to be independent, but the opportunities for unbonded omega’s… there’s not much he can do in the world without a mate. And the way he seems now… there are alphas that would take advantage of that imbalance, of the idea of infertility… he’ll be even more unhappy if he stays how he is. He’s going to make himself sick. In the end, it is for his own health.”

Someone sighed. 

“What are you asking from us, Alistair?”

“Have Arthur move in with me and Emma, once we’re settled,”

“Oh, Alistair…”

“It’ll be good for everyone. Emma would love to take care of him, I could keep a closer watch on him. It’s just down the block, he’ll be close,”

“You must know he’ll absolutely hate it. Arthur’s used to a certain level of freedom...”

“Too much freedom,”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,”

"Let us think on it,”

“Pa--”

“Now now, our answer doesn’t really matter until you and Emma are moved in, does it? So us taking until then to decide isn’t delaying anything,”

Arthur felt his breathing start to lose its dependable pattern and decided it would be best to leave now. He stumbled up the stairs and into his room with ideas of infertility making his stomach burn and the thought of a faceless alpha crowding him against a mattress making his breath catch. He sat against the corner of his room and hugged his knees, trying to recapture a proper breathing pattern and hold in panicked tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, I know i outlined this a long time ago, but did i really do the infertility plot point trope? Is it too much? i guess so. I'm sorry, I owe you all an apology. i guess i'll have to put emphasis later on how the others wouldn't care, Arthur just likes kids.
> 
> I'd love it if you could leave a review!


	5. New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet a very different kind of omega and are reintroduced to a longsuffering beta from a different perspective.

Arthur was particularly vicious the next school day, snapping at anyone who passed too close or gave him any look that even vaguely insinuated he should have an alpha. He arrived at school extra early just to get out of his house, but his mood was so aggressive he didn’t even trust himself around Kiku-- who he wouldn’t want to look at him differently-- or Romano, who would only feed him back his own fire. Therefore, he sought out the last of his friends: the only other omega he could actually tolerate even if Arthur did greatly disapprove of his behaviour. It was clear at least that he lived for himself and no one else, and Arthur could appreciate that. He found him leaning casually against the wall facing the parking lot.

“Yo, Kirkland, what’s up?” the other omega shouted while waving an arm, attracting a great amount of attention as was his habit. It wasn’t just his booming voice, heavy accent, or the overt motion that did it, though. His looks, both natural and customized, assisted him greatly in that. Gilbert had albinism, which resulted in a very light skin tone with a slightly splotchy pink undertone and nearly white blond hair. His eyes were naturally a pale blue-violet but Gilbert liked to wear brightly coloured contacts. He said since he had to wear them anyway for his vision he might as well let them ‘give him an edge’. Today he was wearing his favourite red pair, which Arthur thought perpetuated stereotypes but Gilbert thought were hilarious-- particularly when people asked him if they were natural. 

“I’m gonna plant one on my piss-arse brother,”

“Hope you mean a punch and not a kiss,” Gilbert smirked at him. Arthur shot him a glare.

“Bugger off,”

“Okay, okay, man, chill. What did he do this time?”

A passing alpha stuttered a bit in his step when he walked past Gilbert, unashamedly staring. The sharp flowery scent of arousal indicated it wasn’t the mocking kind. For a moment Arthur felt ugly and scrawny next to such a prime example of a fit and healthy omega, then he remembered that he wasn’t actually there for the aesthetic pleasure of others and scowled.

Outside of his skin and hair, the other eye-catching aspects of Gilbert’s appearance were more purposeful. He enhanced his natural aesthetics through makeup and regular trips to the gym. His body was well muscled in a compact non-bulging type of way, a little bulkier than a runner but somewhere along the lines of gymnast. It was impossible not to notice how incredibly long his legs were, especially in his current attire. 

Seeing as it was late September, Gilbert felt safe showing off a bit more skin than he would during the sunnier months. Arthur theorized that if it weren’t for his easily damaged skin, Gilbert would wander around with as little clothing as he could get away with without being arrested for public indecency. As it was his peach dress had long loose sleeves and a turtleneck, but though it technically complied with all school rules one would be hard pressed to call it proper on account of the thinness of the cotton material and the way it only just barely reached his knees, clinging to his muscled thighs. His large sunhat even managed to look somewhat suggestive, though Arthur couldn’t quite put a finger on exactly how. 

The point was, Gilbert had practically designed himself to draw attention and although Arthur didn’t attend parties it was actually impossible not to know that Gilbert was also a huge slag. This was news that was both rumoured around the school and also enthusiastically confirmed by the omega himself. Arthur didn’t see the point of that behaviour, but enough alpha’s disliked Gilbert for it that Arthur could accept it, even if it did repulse him at times that Gilbert had so little self respect as to easily made himself so easily available for the pleasure of alphas. 

“Tosser thinks after a decade he can just get off his bum and make me into a ‘proper’ omega,”

“Really? I still see him at parties sometimes. He seems as cool as ever,”

“Not Patrick, the oldest one, Alistair,”

“But doesn’t he live in Wales?”

“Scotland, Dylan lives in Wales,”

“For a beta family, your parents are pretty--”

“Belt up. Honestly Gilbert, why do you feel the need?”

“Part of my awesome charm. How’s your brother managing to bother you this much from all the way up north?”

“That’s part of his plan, evidently. He came over for mum’s birthday and decided I was ‘maladjusted’. He and his mate are moving in down the block and insist I come live with them so he can be a proper head-alpha in place of Patrick,”

“Sucks. Let me tell you, having a strict head-alpha is no fun. I’m lucky I have Luddy as a buffer, or I would have been thrown into a behavioural modification programme ages ago. It’s Grandfather’s favourite threat. Your brother will have less power over you since your parents are betas. The trick’s to give him inches but never the mile,”

“That sounds more like your shagging policy,”

“Harsh. Fine. Do not listen to my awesome advice. Give in sometimes, but only on the things that don’t matter or you plan to break without him knowing. For example, my head alpha thinks I have a curfew when really I have awesome tree climbing skills. Everybody wins,”

Arthur snorted and it was almost a laugh. 

“And what happens when he catches you?”

“Pfft, he won’t. He has tomatoes on his eyes.”

Arthur stared at Gilbert for a moment. 

“Tomatoes on his eyes?”

“Er, you know, to be bad at noticing things? I’m sure those are the right words... Maybe it only works in German. Point is he will not notice and we’re both happy,”

“And when you finally fall out of that window of yours?”

“Pfft,” Gilbert waved a hand dismissively then looked over Arthur’s head and snorted, “Better than never rebelling and ending up like that poor kid,” he finished, eyes locked somewhere to the right of Arthur. 

Arthur shifted to make it more natural for him to look as well. He easily spotted the ‘poor kid’ Gilbert was referring to due to both his height and novelty. He was walking from the bus stop with a possessive arm slung over his shoulder by another boy who looked too similar to him for them not to be siblings. Arthur had never seen them before and it was a relatively small school, so he presumed they must be new. It was also clear one was an alpha and the other an omega just by body language alone, though the conservative clothes certainly helped. The omega walked a bit slouched, like he was very conscious of his height, with his arms linked in front of him. His long skirt and turtleneck were in drab colours and covered his skin all the way to his chin. He wasn’t even looking up at where he was being led by his brother, instead observing the sidewalk like he wasn’t allowed to make eye contact. The alpha, of course, was walking with his head held high in an almost march, the hand not holding his brother in place making wide sweeping gestures as he talked about something so loudly that Arthur could just pick out the sound of his voice. As he watched another alpha passed by them, slowing down by the omega only to be greeted to a partial snarl from the alpha brother. 

Arthur sneered at them both, disgusted by the overtly territorial display and the meek omega who was acting like a spineless puppet. Was this what his brother was aiming to turn him into? An omega who subjected themselves to the humiliation of being owned without complaint? Was that the kind of alpha he wanted Arthur to be able to attract with a ‘proper’ scent? A boy who probably saw a member of his own family as a puppet who needed their strings tugged rather than as a person?

Gilbert took in his expression and snickered.

“Do you think he’s got anything in his head besides a repeating mantra of ‘omega’s are seen and not heard’?”

“Only if the alpha is thinking anything other than ‘mine mine mine’,” he snickered in kind, tearing his eyes from the pathetic scene. “If my brother thinks I’m ever turning into that, he’s got another thing coming,”

“Ya, well my grandad still seems to have hope for it, so someone should break the news to him,”

Arthur sighed heavily. 

“I’m going inside. Class will be starting soon.” He had come in today feeling aggravated. Somehow, despite seeking out Gilbert because of his laid back attitude, Arthur was leaving the conversation feeling absolutely angry at everyone and everything. Gilbert patted him on the shoulder as Arthur marched off, prepared not to learn much of anything in his maths class considering his state of mind. 

He arrived to the classroom ahead of any other students and settled into his desk while trying to control the tremor in his hand and perform some half remembered breathing exercizes. However, even by the time the room had filled, he had not managed to get anymore of a handle on his emotions. He could feel the wary glances of the other alphas and omegas in the class that were picking up the sure to be strong scent of his emotional turmoil, so strong it was detectable even above the scent-blocking air freshener. He was sure the attention just made the scent stronger, because he knew he looked calm enough and he hated that he couldn’t hide his feelings. Not with a room full of people evolved to pick them out. Added to that were the confused stares of the beta’s trying to figure out what exactly about him was causing people to turn to each other and whisper. 

“Did anyone see anything happen?”

“... fight at home?”

“... Unstable...”

“... an omega like that,”

“...Unnattractive...” 

“...Unomegalike...”

Arthur looked down at his desk and tried to pretend he couldn’t hear them, because it was only making the haze in his mind worse. He was angry, he wasn’t trying to be attractive. And if one more person told him something he did was unomegalike… 

“Alright class,” Ms. Tate quieted everyone down as the bell rung. It was only once he looked up at her voice that he noticed that there was someone standing beside the alpha teacher. Someone he recognized and who certainly wasn’t making anything better. It was the omega from the parking lot, now free of his alpha though Arthur was close enough to catch the scent of said alpha. It was strong enough that Arthur knew the other boy must have dropped the omega off right in front of the classroom like a child. “This is Matthew. He may be joining us for the rest of the year.” She gave them all a sharp look. Matthew ducked his head and gave a slight smile from that lower angle. His large eyes and slightly bouncy waves of hair, combined with his subdued posture looked positively the paragon of omegalike virtue. 

Some alpha in the back made a harsh biting sound followed by a possessive growl and their friends laughed. Matthew’s eyes widened a bit and even darted to the teacher for a second before he just continued smiling at the class like he didn’t know what was just implied about what they wanted to do to him. Meanwhile, Ms. Tate just rolled her eyes with an amused smile in the typical ‘alphas will be alphas’ type of way. Arthur doubled his effort in leveling his breathing. 

“Matthew, go ahead and take this seat here.” The teacher gestured to the seat in the front, directly left of Arthur.

“Yes, sir.” His voice was so soft Arthur wasn’t sure he even really heard it. Matthew’s head angled towards Arthur for a moment as he sat down, letting Arthur know that Matthew knew Arthur was angry but was making a polite effort not to look. That and he was probably alarmed by such raw anger from an omega, seeing as it was clear what sort of household Matthew came from. 

Once everyone was settled, Ms. Tate turned to Arthur. 

“Arthur, are you alright?”

“Yes, sir,” he managed to force out between his teeth. He doubted it was very convincing. She took a dramatic breath through her mouth. 

“Are you sure? Do you maybe need to, um, go home and relax?” She smiled indulgently. Some alpha, likely the same one that made the biting sound, snickered mockingly under their breath, again joined by their mindless friends. If Arthur wasn’t already red with anger he would probably be red with embarrassment over the insinuation that he was in pre-heat.

“No, sir. I’m well. Something was simply bothering me earlier. I’ll be fine in a moment,”

“Alright then.” She thankfully let it drop, turning to the board to begin the lesson. 

Halfway through the class period, she finished her lecture on factorials and told the class to work on the questions in the book with a partner. This was the usual pattern of her lessons, so Arthur was not surprised. Usually he just worked alone anyway. However, he noticed that although he had a notebook and pencil out, the new boy didn't have a textbook. Arthur watched out of the corner of his eye as the other omega looked to his left only to realise that the person there was an alpha and back down, as if the very idea of asking an alpha to share was a crime. Then the boy tapped his pencil a few times and with a burst of sour nervousness finally looked at Arthur, who made sure his eyes were back on his own book. 

On some level, Arthur knew he was being a bit petty, but if this boy couldn't work up the balls to ask to share a damn textbook, then he didn't deserve for Arthur to just hand it to him. Unfortunately, the teacher noticed his predicament and walked to the boy’s desk.

“Until we decide that you belong in an easier class, you can share textbooks with someone.”

Arthur wondered if the omega even noticed the dig at his intelligence. Then he watched as Ms. Tate went through the same conundrum as the boy had, looking first at the alpha and realizing he couldn't possibly be asked to sacrifice his education for the sake of an omega, then looking at Arthur and quickly back at the gentle boy as if debating the wisdom of exposing someone like him to someone like Arthur. She hesitantly decided on the latter option, much to Arthur's consternation. 

“You can share with Arthur here. Arthur, push your desk in with Matthew so you can share books. Just for now.” Arthur nodded and did as he was told. Though he scowled down at the desk the whole time. Once the desks were touching he slid his book between them, hoping that would forestall any need for further conversation.

After a while, Arthur found himself stuck on problem four. He could do it halfway, but then found himself getting an unreasonable answer for the next step. He was angrily erasing his work for the third time when he looked up and caught the new boy watching his angry strokes.

“What?!” he snapped in a harsh whisper.

“S-sorry!” he insisted with an immediate blush. Even his blushes looked sweet, like a flower in comparison to the lobster tones Arthur’s translucent skin liked to pop out. The boy looked down at his own paper for a moment before apparently gathering his courage and pointing to Arthur’s paper. “You could, uh, factor out the three beforehand, and then it’ll cancel out part of the fraction you get in that step?”

Arthur looked back at the problem and then at the other omega’s paper where he was on problem seven. He felt that lobster shade coming on.

“Oh… thank you,” he tried for his most polite tone. The boy-- Matthew, was it?-- smiled shyly. Of course, he did everything shyly and Arthur tried not to feel annoyed all over again. 

Now that he was talking in longer sentences, Arthur could pinpoint that his accent was American-sounding. Hardly surprising, the school was a hub for foreign students due to the large number of international corporations and businesses in the city centre. 

“S-sorry for making you share with me. I just tested into this class and we’re not really sure it’s my level since I’ve never even taken algebra, so we haven’t bought the book yet.” He was clearly trying to justify himself and the whispery delicate quality to his voice got on every one of Arthur’s nerves. 

“If you were never interested in maths before, why take it now?” He couldn't help but ask anyway.

“Oh.” Matthew startled as if he hadn’t actually expected Arthur to answer. “I don't have the necessary requirements or test scores to opt out. My old school didn't teach anything above geometry and basic statistics.” 

Arthur hummed in affirmation, feeling a bit pathetic that a boy who hadn’t even taken formal algebra was already better at this than he was. Still, that probably meant Matthew wasn’t a complete ditz despite what his appearance suggested. He decided to concentrate back on his work and not spare another thought, positive or negative, for the other boy. 

…:::*:::...

Alfred didn’t like taking the bus to school. It was clearly making Matthew uncomfortable, if the red hue on his face was anything to go by. At the very least, their sire was taking Mason and Maria to school for now, so he didn’t have to worry about them. 

As they exited the bus, Alfred threw an arm around Matthew’s shoulders to dissuade any of the alphas from trying anything in the push of bodies. Matthew still looked embarrassed, though, his face a bit red as he stared down at the concrete. Or maybe he was just nervous about not just a new school, but a coeducational one. 

“Don’t worry, Mattie, it’ll all be fine. You have the hero here to protect you!” He tried for his biggest smile. It worked a bit, since Matthew giggled. 

The sidewalk from the bus stop led straight into the small parking lot which pressed right against the school, not a gate or wall in sight, beside the one in the very back that blocked the school from a residential neighborhood. This was already uncomfortable enough, but then there was the mixture of scents that started when they had half crossed the parking lot. Alfred tried to talk over it all to distract Matthew, but he knew the omega was just as overwhelmed as he was. There was a satisfied alpha, there was an unhealthy omega, there was disappointed alpha, and there a joyful omega. There were too many mingling scents and Alfred hoped that would slow down once they were inside classrooms. The classes weren’t likely to be as mixed since omegas and alphas were better suited for different subjects because of their natures. 

Then again, he remembered Matthew’s test scores. Since this school offered different classes and requirements than their last, they had each taken a placement exam for certain subjects. Alfred had tested out of the chemistry he was taking back home and transferred to physics instead, but everything else was as expected. Matthew on the other hand… He had tested into both an algebra II course and a biology II. Their sire had immediately complained to the school about the courses being too difficult for someone like Matthew, but the school had informed them that they were required credits that Matthew needed anyway, so whether he took crash courses before hand to catch up or just went straight into them, he would still eventually end up in those classes. Ms. Jones had grumbled about the ridiculous of having an algebra requirement for omegas and had argued a bit more, but in the end there was nothing to be done. Matthew would be taking those courses. Worse still, he was taking them without Alfred and there were sure to be alphas in them. 

The school office was easy to find, as it was directly through the main entrance of the building, and Alfred led Matthew inside as confidently as he could manage. 

“Hello, we’re new and we need our schedules,” he told the peach-skinned middle aged omega receptionist. He hummed and looked between them, specifically at Matthew, and Alfred resisted the urge to tighten his grip. Matthew squirmed, though, and instead Alfred loosened up so his brother could take a half-step back. 

“Names, please?” The receptionist asked, hands already positioned on the keyboard.

“Matthew Williams and Alfred F. Jones,”

He typed on his computer for a few minutes while Alfred rocked back on his feet in the stillness. He noticed that the room smelt strongly of some sort of mint air freshener and he wondered if it was a scent blocker, since he couldn’t smell much of anything else, and if all the classrooms had one. 

A printer behind the desk started up and the omega retrieved the four sheets of paper that it spit out, passing two to each of them. For a moment Alfred wondered how he knew which was which, but then he realized their papers had a little N: O or N: A under their name indicating their natures. The second papers were simple maps of the school with the wings marked by room numbers located in that area. 

“Thanks,” Alfred said distractedly as he skimmed over his, satisfied everything was fine, and then held his hand out for Matthew’s. The receptionists made a ‘hmp’ sound. 

The only class Alfred and Matthew shared was English III, and in addition to the biology and algebra, he had a required physical fitness course. Alfred snapped a picture of both their schedules on his phone, so he’d always know where Matthew was and be able to walk him between classes when he could. 

They headed out of the office and Alfred led them towards the first class on Matthew’s Tuesday schedule, which was the problematic algebra class. 

“Here it is,” Alfred announced once they had made it to the room number. He bit his lip. “Do you want me to go in, or…”

“No, it’s fine,” Matthew promised as he put a hand on the door handle.

“Okay. If you need anything, call me.” Their sire had gotten Mattie a cell phone particularly for this occasion. 

“I will.” Matthew opened the door and strode into the room. Alfred caught a whiff of angry omega just as the door closed and that didn’t make him feel any better about the situation, but at least it wasn’t an angry alpha. 

Alfred checked his own schedule and saw that he had calculus just a few doors down across the hall and felt himself relax a bit. 

In his own classroom, Alfred realized that the scent-blockers were in every room. That or they happened to be in the office and in this specific class. He could still vaguely tell the difference in scent between alpha, beta, and omega-- though there was only one of the later in the class-- but their emotions were undetectable, at least at a distance. 

Alfred strutted up to the teacher, an alpha woman with light brown skin and straight dark hair done up in a bun. 

“Hi, I’m Alfred. I just transferred here.”

The woman looked him over quickly with her dark eyes, as if trying to decide if he would be trouble or not. Then she smiled at him gently.

“Hello, Alfred. I’m Ms. Gujir. It’s nice to meet you. We have an empty seat at the very end of the first row here, if you would like to take it before class starts. I’ll introduce you once everyone has settled down,”

“Thanks,” Alfred smiled as he slung his bag over his new desk. Already seated to his left was a small beta boy with dark hair and eyes but light features. He was flipping through a notebook filled with math problems and Alfred wondered if he would be required to take a pop quiz if they had one today. 

“Hi, I’m Alfred,” he decided he might as well start up right away on a new group of friends. It was always good to have a few beta friends, that way you had a chaperone if you wanted to go out somewhere with an omega. 

The boy looked up at him and nodded. “I’m Kiku Honda. It’s nice to meet you, Alfred,” he said before going back to his notebook. 

“Wow, you’re really formal, huh? My friends say I’m not very good at being formal. Or, well, they did. I don’t know how well we’ll keep in touch here, with the time change and stuff. I’m from America, by the way. You have a bit of an accent too, where are you from? Do you keep in touch with your friends?”

The boy, Kiku, looked up again, eyes a bit wide. “Er, my family is from Japan. I moved here when I was a child and so did not keep much contact with past acquaintances,”

“That’s so cool! What’s Japan like? Do you go there often? Do you have family there? I don’t have any family left in America. Well, actually, my bearer has a sister, I think, but we don’t talk to her. I think we’ll still visit, though, it’d be too weird if my little siblings didn’t know what America was like. How many siblings do you have?”

“I… those are a lot of questions,” Kiku finally managed, closing his notebook. Alfred reddened a bit. He knew he could be a bit enthusiastic about meeting new people.

“Oh, sorry,” He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Apology accepted. I don’t have any siblings. I do have many cousins. None of them live in Japan, though they live all around East Asia and my eldest cousin is from China but lives here,”

“Wow, no siblings? That’s crazy! I guess your parents are beta’s too, huh?” Alfred stopped himself from continuing in order to give Kiku room to speak. 

“They are. Er… how many siblings do you have, Alfred?”

“Five. The oldest one is Matthew, he’s in this school too. In the same grade, since we’re twins. People usually ask if we’re fraternal or identical, but we’re actually neither. There are more than two different types of twins and we’re something called half identical. My youngest siblings are twins too, but they’re completely fraternal even though they’re both omegas, unlike me and Mattie who are half and half. Then there’s Mason and Maria. They’re not twins, wouldn’t it be super weird if they were? I mean, I guess not since my parents are alpha-omega. Anyway they’re in the middle. Mason just entered specialized schooling and Maria is still in coeducational elementary. Have you gone to coeducational schools your entire life? Wait, you’re a beta so it wouldn’t really matter, would it?”

Kiku was saved from having to answer by the ringing of the bell and subsequent roll call from Ms. Gujir. 

“... and lastly, I’d like to introduce you all to our new student. This is Alfred Jones.” She gestured to where he was sitting with a tilt of her head, “If someone could give him the notes from the first month, it’d be much appreciated. Now, today’s lesson is on--”

Alfred took out his own notebook as the teacher lectured, finding he wasn’t having too much trouble catching up on account of having been at about the same level of math back home. The class went relatively fast as he copied down everything she wrote on the board and he soon found himself packing his things after the bell. 

“If you would like my notes, I can make copies for you.” Kiku had finished packing his things into a dark blue backpack and stood in front of Alfred’s desk. 

“Really man? That’d be awesome. I think I’ve covered the same stuff already, but I’d really like to make sure, you know? Anyway, thanks.” Alfred finished stuffing his papers into his bag. “So where are you heading? I have…” He fished his phone out of his pocket and found the picture of his schedule, “Art I, next. Maybe we can walk together? Oh, wait, I have to walk my brother,”

“It’s fine. I have French next anyway. It is in the other direction. Have a nice day, Alfred.” Kiku nodded as they parted ways right outside the classroom door. 

Alfred jogged through the crowds now swarming the hallway to the door he had dropped Mattie at. The omega was just walking out when Alfred swung his arm over his shoulders.

“Hey, Mattie! How was class?”

“It was good. Thank you, Alfred,”

“Cool! So I have art next and you have…” Alfred paused as he flipped through his phone to find Mattie’s schedule.

“Physical Fitness,” Matthew quietly reminded. Alfred thought of the gym clothes that had been required for Mattie. They were all long, but pretty tight. Naturally, though, they did separate alphas and omegas for gym class, at the very least. So there wasn’t really anything to worry about there. He even knew that the teacher was a female beta and all the betas in the class were female. Ms. Jones had called to be sure of this fact as soon as she saw the class on Mattie’s schedule. 

“Right! So you’re at the gym and I’m in room four twelve. Er… are those close?”

“Yes.” Alfred was going to ask how he knew, but then noticed that he had the school map folded up in his right hand. Alfred thought of getting his out, but he had seen the gym near the entrance when they had arrived and he was sure he could find his class from there if they were close by. 

“Cool! Then let’s go!” He slipped his arm down to grab Mattie by the elbow instead of over his shoulder and moved them both forward at his brisk jogging pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, people are still reading this? You can pretty much attribute this update completely to those informative reviews. XD  
> I've actually been thinking of taking this story down and transferring it in its entirety to FF.net since i think it fits better there. if anyone feels strongly about that one way or another, please let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> *If it's not clear, Arthur and Alfred are both unreliable narrators. To be clear, no survival tactic is 'weak' you do what you have to, even if that means staying quiet.
> 
> Anyway, so I've had this story hanging out in my drive for a while now, and this is the kind of omegaverse story I've always wanted to read, so I decided just to go ahead and publish it. I can't promise consistent updates, but I can promise updates and chapters of a consistent length and I know exactly what will happen in this story and when. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, or want to discuss omegaverse or any aspect of this story or have constructive criticism of any type, really, please review. I'd be happy to hear from you. :-)


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